


Inspiration (Don't Sue Me)

by GoldenEmpire



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: 1930's!AU, 20's, 20's!AU, 40's!AU, Abduction, Afterlife, Age Gaps, Agent Carter - Freeform, Anaemic!Octavian, Anal Sex, Angst, Arctic Expedition, Arranged Marriage, Boardwalk Empire!AU, Bootlegging, CIA!Jason, Cancer, Crossdressing, Drinking, Emotional, Falling In Love, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Five Stages of Grief, Forbidden Romance, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Gangster!AU, Ghost!AU, Ghosts, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Hiding, Insecure!Octavian, Kidnapping, Kissing, Leo speaks Spanish, Lord!Percy, Loss of Virginity, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Make Outs, Mentions of Sex, Murder, NSFW, Nico in a dress!, Non Con (Kind of), Nudism, Nudist!Leo - Freeform, Peaky Blinders!Au, Post-War, Prince&Servant!AU, Princesses, Rimming, Roommates, Secret Agent!AU, Servant!Luke, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Side!Percabeth, Smoking, Smut, Speakeasies, Suicide, Virgin!Octavian, Winner gets to chose what they want, american horror story!au, anonymous, cute!nico, happy endings, hate/love, hidden identity, jealous!jason, mechanic!Leo, poker games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:57:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 65,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEmpire/pseuds/GoldenEmpire
Summary: Different fandom AU!Each chapter is loosely based on the plot of another TV show, movie or book.Of course featuring out favourite (gay) couples ;)ONLY HEROES OF OLYMPUS/PERCY JACKSON CHARACTERS!!! (This ain't a crossover bitches)Inspired by;Chapter 1 - Agent Carter. Jason is a CIA agent, Leo is his nudist roommate.Chapter 2 - American Horror Story: Murder House. Nico is an old ghost, Percy is his ghost apprentice.Chapter 3 - Boardwalk Empire/Peaky Blinders. Frank and Leo are both gangsters that 'hate' each other.Chapter 4 - Dark Matter. Michael and Octavian are stuck alone in the middle of the arctic.Chapter 5 - Downton Abbey. Percy is a Lord and his servant best friend, Luke, keeps kissing him.Chapter 6 - Gemma Doyle/Selection. Nico pretends to be a Princess in Percy's castle. Will is his favourite guard. NSFW.(Will come back to this eventually...maybe)





	1. Agent Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 2016; Jason Grace, a CIA agent, is tasked with arresting a Greek drug cartel that keeps slipping through his fingers. Leo Valdez, his oblivious, nudist, mechanic roommate has no idea about Jason's double life. He also has no idea that the agent is in love with him.  
> Inspired by: Agent Carter  
> Jason is based on Peggy Carter, and Leo is based on Angie.

**AGENT GRACE**

 

**October 2016**

The click of the handcuffs caused relief to  _finally_ flood Jason's body. It was that moment of each job when he knew it was over - the bad guy was finally caught and arrested, and it would be smooth as butter from there. This had been a particularly hard case for CIA Agent Jason Grace, months of research and inside work all to capture a Greek drug cartel importing a new drug called Ambrosia into the United States. But now it was over - the Agents had the cartel, all of them, and they were being herded into the S.W.A.T vans like cattle, and the man knew he could relax now. All that was left was paperwork and that was nothing compared to this.

"Good work, Agent," Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano walked across the room to where he was standing. They were in a complex of warehouses, bare and dodgy, where the cartel had stored most of their drugs. The packages were being secured now by people in bio-hazard suits, but that wasn't any of Jason's business. He could finally go home and relax.

"You too, Reyna," he nodded at his co-worker, "Without you we wouldn't have caught all of them."

She pulled a sour face, brown braid swinging when she shook her head, "We didn't catch all of them, I thought someone told you. The leader and his daughter weren't here during the raid.

"Dammit," Jason swore, body tensing. Reyna clasped her shoulder sympathetically though her face was tight with disappointment, 

"Don't worry about it too much - just go home and relax," she said, "We can take care of it tomorrow. They couldn't have gone far, there's too many trails left."

"Right," Jason said, though it didn't stop him from fretting. He was a perfectionist when it came to his work, and the thought that they still couldn't close the case irked him. But Reyna was right - it was coming up to midnight and it was obvious that they couldn't do much more that night; after the showdown both of them were exhausted, so Jason said his goodbyes and dragged himself outside. It was a cool autumn night, the smell of rain heavy in the air.  

Despite the fact that the job paid well -  _really_ well - Jason didn't live in expensive apartments or beautiful houses like the other agents. Instead he took the bus to and from work and lived in downtown LA, in a small apartment he shared with another boy. The reason for not spending his money on 'comfortable living' was because Jason didn't see the point. He had lived all his life in a tiny house with his alcoholic mother until she died in a car crash. Jason barely remembered it - her face was always blurred in her memories. After that house he was moved to an orphanage of sorts for people over fourteen. He had never had money or nice things, and he didn't need them. What he cared about most was people, and his favourite person was Leo Valdez, a boy he met at the orphanage, his roommate and best friend to this day. 

Leo was...something else. Jason was pretty sure that if it wasn't for him he would've fallen into depression because of his past. The orphanage wasn't a bad place; it just stripped you of your individuality, something neither Jason nor Leo could take. It was Leo who prevented Jason from falling into a hole of self-pity, he who pushed Jason to go to university with him so that they both majored in mechanical engineering, though Leo was always more into it than Jason. 

After uni they decided to continue living together and rented the flat that Jason was now heading to. It had two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and something commonly referred to as a 'living space' which functioned as everything from Jason's work out space to Leo's workshop. The boy had gotten a job first, which saved them from losing the place. He was always into making and fixing things, seeing how they worked, and he got hired at a mechanics close by. He was so happy about the job that he bought a bottle of expensive whiskey and shared it with Jason on their shitty floral couch. When he was sufficiently drunk he told Jason, as a joke, that now it was his turn to get a job, and that he'd be a great secret agent.

Jason knew it was a joke but over the next few days the thought plagued him. He had never known what he wanted to do, and now an opportunity arose. So despite his better judgement, Jason went online and applied. And then he went to the interview, still not believing it was quite real. And now he was here. 

When Jason stepped off the bus it had began to rain (something rare for LA) and the streets were shadowed in darkness. The sound of the city's nightlife rumbled around him despite the bad weather; music floating from bars and clubs, drunk university kids laughing and shouting as they stumbled through the streets, cars honking at each other in the never-ending traffic. Jason liked the sound of the city, it was comforting, it reminded him of home. 

His apartment block was nestled in a whole estate of similar blocks; tall, sheer and whitey-grey. They didn't look like much from the outside but that didn't matter, at least they were clean and didn't have a mould infestation like his mother's house had. The blonde climbed up the graffiti-ed stairs of block 3, ignoring the 'out of order' lift which hadn't been working since forever. When he got to the fourth floor he veered to the right and found the door numbered '9.' The door on its right was 19, and the one on the other side 112. It was weird like that in his block, the doors were numbered incorrectly as if someone had gone round drunk, hammering the silver numbers to the wood without paying attention. Still, Jason was glad to be home, no matter how imperfect.

His key sounded obnoxiously loud in the empty hallway and with a wince Jason remembered how late it was. Leo was probably asleep, and scared to wake him up Jason quietly opened the door and slipped inside. 

Leo wasn't asleep. He was sprawled on the couch, not tall enough to take up all of it, one of his tanned legs hanging over the side. The glow from the TV gave his body an ethereal kind of glow, making him look more like a mischievous elf than usual. His wild curls fell into his dark brown eyes which lazily flickered to Jason. The boy smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek,

"Welcome home!" he said, way too loud for the hour. He was completely naked. 

It took Jason about three excruciating seconds to un-freeze from his position of staring at his roommate with wide eyes. And then he slapped a hand over said eyes, dropping his keys,

"Leo!" he complained, blindly trying to find his way to his room, "How many times do I have to tell you that you need to wear clothes?!"

Leo shrugged, "You knew I was a nudist when you decided to move in with me Superman, so don't try and act all offended now," he sat up, yawned and stretched, and Jason couldn't help but peak through his fingers, "Besides," Leo continued casually, "You never minded back in school."

Of course Jason hadn't minded back in school; he had had a girlfriend then, and thought that he was one hundred percent straight. Back then he had been a hormone-crazy teenager who thought that breasts were the best thing since sliced bread, and Leo was like his  _brother,_ so of course Jason had never thought about him in that way but...well, they were twenty three now, and Leo had somehow grown into his Einstein-hair and too-big eyes and lanky limbs since school, and Jason didn't have a girlfriend anymore, and it was  _really_ hard for him to focus on anything other than Leo's body when he was around, especially when he was naked, so yes, Jason hadn't minded at school, but he minded now. 

"Just put some clothes on," he chocked out. Leo rolled his eyes and went to flick the lights on. Jason had to squeeze his eyes shut to not have the image of the boy's sharp hipbones burned into his mind. He tapped his foot to give off the idea of impatience even thought the only thing he was feeling was exhaustion and a stirring of confusing arousal. Leo did him a courtesy of pulling on a shirt, though that didn't help much. It was one of Jason's old flannels that Leo had adopted back when the blonde didn't think that seeing his best friend in his clothes would make him hard. Now as Leo walked around in the too-big shirt that reached his mid-thigh, with the knowledge that the boy wasn't wearing  _anything_ underneath it was making Jason regret every decision he ever made.

"So," Leo padded into the kitchen and Jason reluctantly followed him, "How was work? Did you move onto bigger things? Cocaine? Heroin? Or are you still selling weed?" the boy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he flicked the kettle on, settling on top of their worn counter. Jason leaned against the fridge and rolled his eyes,

"For the last time Leo, I'm not a drug dealer."

"Well, you're  _something,_ " Leo wrinkled his nose, "And I'm sure it ain't a stripper."

Jason knew that deep down beneath the jokes Leo was actually hurt that Jason wouldn't tell him where he worked. The blonde had long ago given up trying to lie to the Latino since he could see right through him every time. So now he just settled on telling him that he couldn't say anything about the work, which started a string of ideas from the Latino's brilliant brain, though none of them were true. Jason wished he could tell him what he really did for a living, but it was basically impossible. If he told anyone they could be put in danger - that was one of CIA's rules. Once again Jason's mind strayed to the Greek Mafia and his mood dampened. 

"How was work?" he asked Leo, to try and take his mind off his failures. Leo shrugged and turned around on the counter so he could kneel and get two cups. He was too short to reach the cupboard without getting on the counter and now Jason's eyes helplessly slid lower, to where Leo's ( _Jason's)_ shirt rode up dangerously high. A normal person would do one of three things; confess their feelings to their friend, get really drunk and have sex with them, or move out. But Jason couldn't do any of those things. The idea of living alone, without his little fireball to wait for him at home, was horrible. Jason was too righteous to ever forgive himself for having sex with Leo if he was drunk, because technically that wasn't consent. And he couldn't confess his feelings - because he was simply scared. 

"Some absolute dickhead brought in a SUV with bullet holes in the side," Leo jumped off the counter and started making the tea, "like actual fucking bullet holes. And he was proper shady as well, in this really expensive suit and sunglasses and stuff, I thought he could be a man in black, or one of your drug dealer friends," he sent Jason a grin over his shoulder, "wanted a paint job done and I was just like, dude what paint job do you not see those fucking volcanic eruptions on your ride? Painting it pink ain't gonna save it mate," he handed Jason his cup of tea and the man took it gratefully, looking at Leo with an amused smile. He loved seeing Leo rage about things, "but the guy was just like, nah, paint it, so we did."

"And how did it turn out?"

"Absolutely shit," Leo made a face, "looked like a bunch of moles made a den in the side of the car," Jason snorted into his tea and Leo grinned, "he tipped us though, so it was worth it I guess."

"Wish my job was half as interesting as yours," Jason said. And he kind of meant it. Some days he wished he had a normal job which he could tell Leo about. He wished he could visit the boy during lunchtimes and not worry about gangs or criminals or anything like that. But he liked his work well enough. Leo rolled his eyes again,

"Okay Indiana Jones," he chugged his tea and then put his cup in the sink, "I'm gonna go illegally stream Orange is the New Black, get some feel so I can fill you in when you're caught for your shady business and sent to jail."

"I'm not a drug dealer, Leo," Jason repeated again, "And go to sleep you have work tomorrow."

"Okay mom," Leo teased. Jason ruffled his hair as he walked past, 

"Goodnight idiot."

"Night, dickhead," Leo winked at him. When Jason heard the door to his room close he slumped against the counter, rubbing his forehead and cursing himself for being such a damn coward. 

*** 

Reyna was sitting next to Jason, an IPad in her hand. 

"This is the bases we raided," the IPad showed a map of LA with thin grey lines representing roads and half a dozen red dots showing the warehouses that belonged to the Greek Cartel, "They've been secured which means that the remaining two can't be in there."

"What if they left?" Jason asked, "Their passports are on alert but they could be using fake ones?"

Reyna shook her head, clicking off her IPad, "I don't think so. Their faces are plastered all over the news; someone would've known something."

"One steps forward, two steps back," Jason sighed, feeling a headache begin to build behind his eyes, "Have any of the others started talking?"

"No. All they do is swear at us in Greek. They have a very strong sense of loyalty towards their boss."

"One of them will  _have_ to talk, sooner of later. They're facing twenty five years in prison, or more. Offer them deals, lie to them - tell them the others have told on them."

"I tried it," Reyna shook her head, "they won't believe me."

Jason took the IPad from her as he thought of solutions. He flipped through the open tabs to the photographs of the cartel. He stared at the picture of the leader. He looked like an average grandpa; long, grey hair that matched his beard, piercing blue eyes. He didn't seem like a leader of a drug ring. His daughter was pretty and looked too young to be involved in such things. With a sigh Jason locked the IPad. 

"How about offering them five years each if they tell us where their boss is?" he asked, "surely they'd go for it."

"We can try but...," Reyna shook her head, cutting off whatever she was going to say, "We can try." 

*** 

It didn't work. On one hand Jason admired the loyalty of the cartel - none of them showed even a  _flicker_ of hesitation, of fear. They preferred to spend the rest of their days in prison if only it meant that their comrades made it out. Jason could understand that; he'd do the same for Leo. But still, it was incredibly frustrating because the people didn't realise that Ambrosia had already killed dozens of people. And without the whole cartel captured they'd probably just continue to import it, and that thought was unbearable.

Jason returned home earlier than normal, in a horrible mood. He wanted to cook dinner for Leo for once but couldn't concentrate enough so he just ended up ordering tacos, which arrived just minutes before the Latino. They ate dinner on the floor by the couch, the TV humming quietly in the background. Jason was still in his expensive work shirt and suit pants while Leo sat next to him in his greasy overalls, his hair tied back from his face. Seeing him lifted Jason's mood a little bit, it always did. Until Leo said something that the agent hadn't been expecting. 

"I'm going on a date."

Jason chocked on a piece of meat and started coughing until Leo offered him a pitying glass of water,

"Didn't realise that would be so shocking," he said with a grin as Jason drank, "After all who wouldn't want a piece of Leo Valdez?" he asked with a wink.

"Yeah," Jason agreed weakly. He didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe that he and Leo would just continue to live, side by side, forever. Jason didn't feel the need to get a girlfriend, obviously he got horny sometimes but it wasn't that much of an issue that he'd chose to date. He couldn't expect the same of Leo. He had never had much luck in love, but Jason was happy for him. Okay, that was a lie. He was happy to see Leo's eyes light up, and to see him smile in that giddy, excited way of his. He was just sad that he didn't look like that because of  _him._

"I met her on Tinder, of all places," Leo laughed gleefully, "She's  _gorgeous,_ man. I don't even know why she'd go for me. We're going for coffee on Friday...I think this could be it," his smile grew, "My true love."

"Congrats, man," Jason clapped him on the shoulder, hand shaking. Leo's smile tumbled from his face,

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. Jason let his hand drop from the boy's shoulder and looked away,

"Tough day at work, s'all."

"Did the police confiscate your weed?" Leo asked cheekily. Jason didn't have it in himself to smile. He had thought that they had closed the Greek Cartel case, and it looked like they were just beginning, and that the fight would continue for much, much longer. Leo saw this and fidgeted uncomfortably,

"Hey," he said, "they're showing the new Disney movie at the cinema. Joanna or something."

"Moana, idiot."

Leo got up and offered Jason a hand to pull him up, "Let's go see it."

Jason looked up at him. He wanted a distraction from his work, if only for a bit, and Leo would be a perfect one. Besides, it was almost like a date.

*** 

Jason held his breath. His suit clung to his body like a second skin and despite the fact that his heart was pounding and his throat felt dry, his hands didn't shake as he held his gun in front of his face. He licked his lip nervously and nodded at Reyna on the other side of the steel door. They and a whole team of CIA agents were in two lines, hugging an abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of Los Angeles. The sunshine didn't make it look any less eerie or dirty, but Jason didn't care about that. Somewhere inside the two escapees from the Greek cartel were nestled, like mice in a trap.

They had gotten an anonymous tip-off earlier that day and now, in the afternoon sunlight, they silently filed in, surrounding the building, making barely more noise than the leaves rustling in the trees. Jason was aware of every inch of his body; his fingers tightening on his gun, the hair at the nape of his neck shifting softly in the breeze, the buttons of his shirt pressed against his skin. He was vaguely afraid but the adrenaline coursing through his veins was making it hard for him to think about anything else than the present. 

His eyes met Reyna's, and she nodded. He raised his hand and inhaled. When he let the breath out it seemed to take a freakishly long time, as if someone had slow-motioned the moment. His hand fell and just like that the world  _whooshed_ into a sudden explosion of life. He barrelled in through the doors of the warehouse with Reyna, the others filing in after them, weapons raised. After the startling silence their heavy footsteps sounded anomalously loud, echoing off the empty warehouse walls.

"This is the CIA!" Jason yelled, weapon still raised and eyes sharp and alert for any movement. Sunlight streamed in through the dirty windows, illuminating the dust particles in the air. An animals nest was settled in one corner of the spacious main room, and messy, crude graffiti decorated one of the walls. The room was empty buy there were door-less entrances leading further into the building, looking like yawning mouths, swallowing up the agents that ran in with their guns raised, "This is a raid! You are surrounded!" Jason's booming voice echoed back at him. 

He ran into the next room, pulse quickening as if it was trying to run away. That room was also empty and Jason tried not to feel disappointment and anger at finding nothing but a bunch of damp cardboard boxes in one corner. From around him a confusing chorus of "all clear's" sounded from different rooms, carried by the sullen walls of the abandoned warehouse. Jason lowered his weapon and stared at the boxes dejectedly. After a few moments a a young agent ran to him, his cheeks flushed, 

"Sir. They're not here."

"It was a false tip-off," Jason said, confirming his fears. If the Greek Cartel had been here at all they were long gone by now. Jason heard Reyna angrily kick the boxes and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The adrenaline seeped out of him like water out of a broken vase and he felt suddenly tired. Thinking about all the paperwork he'd have to fill in later really wasn't helping either. 

"Fucking Greeks," Reyna grumbled to herself.

"We'll catch them sooner of later," Jason knew he had to be the rock now, for her  _and_ for him. They were both frustrated with the case but to Reyna it was a lot more personal. She had grown up in Puerto Rico and her father had died because of his drug addiction. Before he passed he had abused both Reyna and her sister, and after his death the girls were left penniless on the streets. Those drugs might've not been Ambrosia but Reyna still had a personal vendetta against those who dealt in them, calling them the "murderers of masses." And Jason could see now how agitated she was now - normally she was as stoic and composed as Jason, but this case was taking a visible toll on her. There were dark circles under her brown eyes, and frown lines between her eyebrows.

Jason gripped her shoulder, allowing her to draw strength from him, "Reyna," he said gently, "This isn't over."

"They won't get away with this," her eyes were determined on his.

*** 

Jason was cooking stir fry for dinner, listening to his favourite podcast on his phone. The flat was filled with delicious smells that helped distract the man from the defeats of his career. A week after the failed raid his department had not gotten any closer to finding the remaining two from the cartel, and the people 'upstairs' were getting more and more impatient, especially since Ambrosia was back on the market and as untraceable as ever.

Jason studied the effects of the drug, seen the corpses of the deceased who overdosed. Ambrosia not only made you paranoid but also made you see things; most commonly monsters and sometimes gods. They made you confused and agitated and you felt as if you were drunk. Too much of the drug and your nervous system started to wither and die. Minutes before their deaths the victims were known to stab themselves or something similar, hysterical over the fact they couldn't feel anything. 

"What do you think?" Leo's voice startled Jason out of his thoughts and he looked up. 

Leo stood in the door, clearly dressed for his date. His curly hair was slicked back from his face, making him look like an elvish, twelve year old version of John Travolta in Grease. To make matters worse he was wearing a polka-dot button up that God knows where he got from. Over that he pulled his favourite leather jacket. Jason couldn't help but snort and Leo's nervous smile tumbled off his face to be replaced by a glare,

"Wow. Fuck you too," he grumbled and strode back out of the kitchen. Jason turned off the gas and chased after him, trying to hide his smile,

"I'm sorry! That's not what I meant!" Leo tried to slam his bedroom door in Jason's face like some sulking child but the blonde was stronger and managed to barrel in. Leo's messy room made him feel somewhat comforted. The boy sat down on his bed, crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Jason tried to sound serious, "It really isn't that bad." Leo gave him a pointed look and Jason cracked a grin, "Oh okay. It's pretty bad."

"Screw you, Grace," Leo blew a stray curl from his face but he didn't seem angry anymore, "Honestly though - I don't know what to wear. I've never actually...y'know, been on a date," he fidgeted adorably, as if expecting Jason to laugh. The blonde just turned to his wardrobe, trying to hide the hurt on his face. He was torn - a part of him wanted Leo to go on this date and find true love and be happy. But on the other hand he was also deathly afraid that Leo would leave him.

"Where you guys going?" he tried to sound casual as he busied himself with flicking through Leo's messily folded clothes.

"Cinema."

"You can't wear polka dot to a cinema," Jason scoffed over his shoulder, "You can't wear polka dot  _anywhere."_

"It it really that bad?" Leo asked self-consciously, tugging at his shirt, "You know I don't like clothes."

"I know," Jason sighed. He pulled out a nice, only slightly crumpled white t-shirt from the closet and checked it for stains. Miraculously, it was clean, "Here, wear this with the jacket," Jason threw it at Leo.

"Thanks Tyra Banks," the Latino grinned, gladly stripping off of his constraining clothes. Guiltily Jason watched him out of the corner of his eye, unable to give up the chance to even glimpse Leo undressing. He tried not to think about the image of Leo's skinny, tanned body burning into his brain just so it can be pulled back up later when Jason's lying on his bed at night. He must've spaced out for a bit because the next thing he knew was that Leo was standing in front of his mirror, already dressed, nervously looking at himself. His gaze slid to Jason,

"Is it better?"

"Much," Jason said, controlling himself. He was scared he'd say something idiotic like  _you look gorgeous,_ and make Leo start to question their friendship. Instead he refrained from words and stepped closer to the short boy, apprehensively running his trembling hands through the boy's slick hair, trying to get it back to its natural state, "Stop trying to get rid of your curls - girls love them."

" _You_ love them," Leo bated his hands away playfully and joked, "and you're not the one that's gonna have sex with me so y'know," he winked and Jason's stomach flipped.  _Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think..._ he told himself forcefully. Leo didn't seem to notice his reaction as he turned back to the mirror and attempted to sort out his hair again. He gave up fast, "Meh, whatever," he shrugged, "If anything she's more likely to fall for my charm and not my good-looks."

"I'm sure she'll fall for both," Jason rolled his eyes and walked out of the room because he couldn't stand being so close to Leo and knowing that in a few hours he could be potentially having sex with someone else. He tried to concentrate on his cooking again as he heard Leo slip on his shoes and look for his keys loudly in the living space. Finally the Latino came back into the kitchen, where Jason's dinner was dangerously close to burning.

"I'm going now. Wish me luck."

"You don't need it, it'll be fine," Jason gave him a tight smile. Leo grinned at him from the doorway and then suddenly surged forward. For a split second his hand was on Jason's shoulder and his soft lips were brushing against his cheek,

"Thanks," he said, excitedly, "I don't know what i'd do without you," he clearly didn't think much of the gesture but Jason was close to having a heart attack, his hand clutching the spatula, his heart pounding and cheeks flushing, "Love you man."

"I love you too," Jason said weakly, but Leo was already gone, slamming the door behind him. 

***

Three weeks later Jason's life just continued to deteriorate, as if the universe decided to pick on him. Not only were he and his team nowhere closer to catching the Greek Cartel, but Leo got himself a girlfriend. Every lead they had, every tip off, hours of work and pouring over maps was for nothing. Every raid ended in failure, every witness was useless. The captured members of the Cartel wouldn't speak, and nothing worked - not threats, or pleas, or plea  _deals,_ or playing good cop and bad cop. They were unmovable, blindly loyal even. Reyna was becoming more and more frustrated, and so was Jason. Especially since Leo's love life was progressing.

After the date he came home grinning and proceeded to tell Jason all about the girl though he could barely concentrate on his words. A second date turned into a third, and one night Leo spontaneously slept at her house, leaving Jason worried sick all night. When he came home the next morning, grinning lazily, hair dishevelled, Jason felt sick knowing that he had sex with someone else. He didn't  _want_ to feel that, he wanted Leo to be happy. But he couldn't stop himself. Leo ended up staying at hers more and more, until he happily told Jason one day that they were officially dating. And now Jason felt  _really_ guilty for thinking about Leo the way he was.

The guilt only made him more irritable at work - he would miss details or even obvious points or make stupid decisions because his thoughts would stray to his curly-haired best friend. Without meaning to Jason started to hate this name-less, face-less girlfriend of his. He refused to see her, always making up excuses when Leo offered to bring her round. He and Reyna were dangerously close from being removed from the case, the people upstairs complaining that they were too 'emotionally involved' to think about it straight. But Jason was determined to finish what they started, no matter what it took - he was an agent after all, and he wouldn't allow someone else to take  _his_ case, especially since it was so important to Reyna. She needed the closure. 

Jason ended up being distracted at work, and distracted at home. During the hours in his stuffy office in his stuffy suit all he could think about was Leo. This obviously wasn't new, Jason spent a weirdly big part of his time thinking about Leo - what he was doing, where he was, picturing him in different (not entirely appropriate) scenarios. But the second he returned home and saw Leo's smiling face he remembered about his girlfriend and his thoughts would drift back to work, like a defensive mechanism, only half-listening to whatever story Leo was telling, trying to build a mental map of the cartel's hideouts.

"...you're not listening to me," Jason was halfway through making spaghetti, Leo perched on the counter right by his elbow. The Latino clicked his fingers in Jason's face, startling him out of whatever work-related thoughts he had been buried in. The man blinked at looked up at the Latino, who thanks to his position on the counter was maybe an inch taller now. He was pouting playfully, arms crossed over his chest, "I was telling you a fascinating story."

"Sorry," Jason sheepishly stirred the spaghetti, "I'm just a bit tired."

"No you're not. Something's on your mind," Leo flicked Jason's forehead but the blonde didn't respond. Leo sighed, "I was thinking about bringing Cali 'round tomorrow."

Jason's hand tightened on the wooden spoon he was holding, "I have to stay at work late tomorrow."

"Thursday then," Leo wasn't giving up, "I really want you to meet her."

"Sorry," Jason swallowed past the lump in his throat, "I'm really tired. This month's been hard."

Leo jumped off the counter, "Fine," he said, tone clipped, and made to leave the kitchen. Jason quickly grabbed him by the sleeve of his jumper,

"You're not mad, are you?"

Leo shrugged him off, "It's fine. Not a big deal. I just wanted my best friend to meet my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," Jason said. He felt like shit - he could see how much this meant to Leo but he physically couldn't bring himself to see her. Because that'd mean seeing her and Leo kiss and touch and call each other cute names, and as selfish as it was, Jason couldn't take it. 

"Whatever," Leo's slim shoulders slumped, "I'll bring her 'round anyway. Maybe you'll make it in time to see her."

"Maybe," Jason said, though he knew that he wouldn't. He'd deliberately stay at work late just so he didn't bump into her, "Hey - no nasty business on the couch."

"It's  _my_ couch," Leo winked, the mood lightening up, "I do what I want."

***

After another failed (and prolonged) day at work Jason dragged himself home. He buried himself in paperwork until incredibly late, so it was closer to dawn than midnight. He hoped that against all odds Leo would be alone, his girlfriend gone so Jason didn't have to pretend he was okay with their relationship. When he was slotting the key into the door he half wanted to run, maybe to some random bar, and stay away from his flat until the morning. In some weird way he thought of the place as contaminated now that some girl had been in it, which was stupid since Jason was never that irrational. Only when it came to Leo he supposed.

But when he opened the door at four in the morning he saw that Leo was awake and alone. He was sitting cross legged on the couch, eating pizza straight out of the box, watching old re-runs of friends and wearing only loose sweatpants. The fact that he was wearing anything at all meant that he was expecting Jason. 

"Hey," he said when he saw the blonde walk in, barely unglueing his eyes from the TV.

"Hey," Jason replied tiredly, chucking his keys into the bowl next to the door, "Did your girlfriend come over?"

"Yeah," Leo shrugged casually but there was something tense about his shoulders. Jason sighed and walked over, ruffling his hair. If Leo was planning to cold shoulder him the idea disappeared the second Jason touched him - the boy smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned into Jason like a cat that liked to be petted. With his pulse escalating the agent brushed his fingers through the boy's hair, "You're back hella late."

"Loads of work," Jason replied vaguely and for once Leo didn't make a drug dealer joke, just hummed as if in approval, ""So...how was it?" the blonde prompted, feeling that Leo wanted to tell him more about his girlfriend. The Latino pulled away and grinned up at him,

"It was great. She really liked the place but had to leave. She says she lives down by Chinatown so it takes ages for her to get home," his expression fell suddenly, "I just...I really wanted you to meet her."

"You're acting like you need my approval," Jason rolled his eyes and stepped away to take off his coat and shoes. Leo padded after him,

"Yeah you're my best friend. I want you to like read her vibes and chakra or whatever."

Jason snorted, "Just show me a picture then."

Leo face-palmed, "Why didn't I think of that?!" he scrambled for his phone, suddenly animated like a child. He tripped over his own feet on his way and was set sprawling on the couch - not that that stopped him, or even slowed him, as he started to look among the cushions for his phone. Jason was slightly mesmerised by the gentle dip of the small of his back, the two dimples right above the waistband of his trousers. 

"Here!" Leo stumbled back to his feet, grinning as he practically barrelled into Jason in his haste to show him his girlfriend. The blonde agent swallowed and tried to distance himself from the situation - he didn't want to say anything weird.  _Just tell him you think she's pretty,_ he told himself,  _make a joke._ Leo was standing so close to Jason that the man could feel his warmth seep in through his t-shirt where he was nestled against his side. He smelled like cinnamon, "There she is," the way he smiled at the phone made Jason's heart twist. He turned the glaring screen to Jason.

For a moment Jason didn't know why there was this sudden feeling of dread in his stomach. For a split second there was just a normal, pretty girl smiling at him from the phone. And then the pieces shifted together. That strawberry blonde hair, those piercing, calculating blue eyes so much like her fathers. Smiling cheerfully from Leo's phone screen was none other than Calypso Ogygia, the daughter of Atlas, the leader of the Greek drug cartel. Jason's hand trembled and his mouth went dry with the realisation. The girl had been here just hours ago, and he could've made the arrest, could've finally closed the case, if it wasn't for his selfish insecurities...

"What did you say her name was?" he asked faintly. Leo frowned,

"Cali. Calypso."

"Where's she from?" Jason felt like what was happening wasn't quite real.

"Greece I think," Leo peered at Jason, "Why? What's wrong?"

Another realisation hit Jason like a brick. Calypso Ogygia had been here, with Leo, had been seeing him for weeks. She could've hurt him, killed him, she could've-

"You can't see her again," Jason's hand curled into fists as a plan began forming in his head - a raid in the-

"What?" Leo asked in disbelief, "What are you talking about? Are you feeling okay Jas?"

Jason gripped his shoulders suddenly, desperate to make him understand. Leo flinched from him, his eyes big and doe-like in his face. His skin was feverishly warm beneath Jason's hands,

"You can't see her again, okay?" his fingers dug into Leo's skin, "Promise me you won't!"

"What is this about?" Leo sounded kind of scared. Jason felt a pit where his stomach should've been when he realised that he couldn't tell Leo the truth. If he did the boy would probably do something stupid, like try and confront Calypso and get himself hurt. Jason couldn't take that,

"I can't tell you," he said, knowing how hopeless he sounded, "Please, you have to listen to me, she's not who you think she is-"

Jason saw the exact moment the fire of anger sparked in Leo's eyes. He'd seen it a hundred times before, but never directed at him.

"What is wrong with you?!" he knocked Jason's hand violently off of his shoulder.

"Leo, c'mon you know-"

"No," Leo was shaking, "No I don't know. It's different for you."

"What are you talking about?" Jason asked, exasperated.

"You look like some superhero," he didn't know what Leo was getting at but he was getting more and more worked up, "You're fucking gorgeous so of course you get girls all the time. I never complain when you go out, even if you never tell me where you go! And the one time that by some miracle a beautiful girl actually wants to be with  _me,_  you have to go and ruin it!"

"Leo it's not like that," Jason ran a hand down his face anxiously. He didn't know how to convey his feelings to his best friend, but Leo just looked so damn upset, standing too far away from Jason, hands in fists and bottom lip trembling, "Leo I'm happy for you-"

"No you're not," Leo interrupted, "You never were, not since the beginning. Why are you so  _against_ me dating!"

"I'm not against you dating!" Jason lied, "I'm against you dating  _her!"_

"Fuck you Jason," Leo spat and then turned to his room. Jason tried to reach for him,

"Leo please-" but he knew that Leo needed his space so he let the Latino go to his room and slam the door closed so loudly it echoed down the corridor. Jason leaned against the wall and exhaled shakily, face buried in his hands. Maybe he fucked up their friendship forever, but all he could do was hope that at least Leo would refrain from seeing Calypso. All Jason needed to do was arrest her. He should go back to the office and call everyone in, but he was so exhausted he could barely see straight. 

***

Jason woke up too late for his liking. Sunlight streamed in through the window, creating patterns on his pillows as he woke up groggily. Lately he slept less and less and his body protested as he sat up. He jumped out of bed when he saw what time it was, swearing and scrambling for his clothes. When he stumbled into the corridor he saw that Leo's door was still closed. Jason bit his lip. He wanted to go inside and apologise to Leo for the previous night, try to vaguely explain to him why Calypso was bad. But he was already late to work and he wanted to give Leo his space, so with a heavy heart he left their quiet flat.

He stormed into work and before anyone could have a go at him for being late he strode right into the office of the Chief Inspector, Chiron. The man was a retired soldier and now moved on a wheelchair. That didn't stop him from being the brains of most operations. The man was busy  with paperwork when Jason unceremoniously strode in. 

"Agent Grace," the man didn't seem surprised when he saw the blonde, "There's a letter for you."

"I know where the Cartel is, boss," Jason interrupted, "they're in Chinatown. Probably the abandoned fish market warehouse."

Chiron furrowed his bushy auburn brows, "Are you sure, Grace? Your last few raids had been unsuccessful."

"I know," Jason confirmed, his mind flashing  back to Leo's furious face the night before, "for sure."

"Right," Chiron nodded and wheeled himself out from behind his desk, "In that case we must draw up a plan, immediately. Collect some Agents, Miss Ramirez included please, we know how important this is for her."

"Yes boss," Jason turned around to go and finally end the case.

"The letter, Agent," Chiron reminded him, waving the creamy envelope in the air. Jason didn't know who it could be from but right now he couldn't care less - he was about to close the case. Still, out of respect he took it out of Chiron's hands. It had no return address, just  _Agent Grace_ written neatly on the back. The man turned it in his hands as he strode through the busy office to his desk. He sat down, giving himself a moment to breathe before the action, and carefully opened the envelope. A letter tumbled out, hand written. Jason's eyes scanned over it.

_Dearest Agent Grace,_

_You have our people, and we have someone you love._

Jason flinched violently, his heart jumping in his chest at the words. His free hand tightened on the armrest of his chair as he continued to read with a sudden urgency, 

_his name is Leo. He is very annoying. We took him last night - or more like he came to my daughter. Yes, we have been observing you. Tonight we return to Greece, and we take him with us. This is for our people, and for the disrespect you have shown us. You should have allowed us to continue distributing the drug, and now we take your friend as payback. We will sell him there, he is annoying but pretty too. Big money. Don't try and raid us, or we will blow his pretty little brains out. Don't show this to anyone, burn it, do with it whatever you please. Tomorrow we will disappear overseas and you will never find us._

_Don't make this worse than it already is._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Atlas._

Jason wanted to throw up. He remembered Leo's closed door in the morning. He had left, gone to Calypso who had betrayed him. Jason tried not to picture the Latino's face when he found out that the person he thought finally fell in love with him revealed her true agenda. Jason stood up and desperately cursed himself for not just telling Leo the truth about his job and about Calypso. Now he'd have to call off the action, or they'd kill him. He felt like he was in a damn TV show but there was no time to think about how absurd the situation was - Jason was a CIA agent, absurd was his middle name. 

He thought of the best plan of action. He couldn't go save Leo, at least not in a big team. That shit might've worked in movies but in real life the 'bad guy' killed the hostage, no matter how fast or stealthy the SWAT team were. So Jason had one option left; go alone. With a newfound determination he started towards the changing rooms, where he had left his coat. He slipped away quietly, ensuring that nobody saw or questioned him. He'd explain later - the worst that could happen was that he'd get fired, which was the best thing compared to the alternative, which was never seeing Leo again.

Jason was rushing for his coat when he bumped smack into Reyna.

"Where are you in such a hurry to?" the girl had clearly just come in, her eyebrow raised. Seeing her suddenly flooded Jason with fear and anxiety - he was going alone to an unknown territory. Despite what Leo said Jason was no hero, and he was scared. Scared that Atlas would shoot Leo, or shoot him, or shoot them both. He wanted backup, he wanted someone to be with him.

He gripped Reyna's hand, "Okay, listen..."

And he told her everything.

*** 

The abandoned fish market loomed overhead, a mass of steel and wood, ugly and scorched as if by a fire. Reyna and Jason had left the warm, aromatic Chinatown behind them. They had passed the streets full of glowing lanterns and open buffets, and then through the dirty blocks where the poorer people lived, and slowly but surely the streets had become more deserted as they pushed on, until they found themselves in front of the warehouse that used to be the market. Around them there were just old, closed down roads and heaps of rubbish. Reyna didn't hesitate in agreeing to go with Jason, and she didn't look like she'd back down now that she stared at the gloomy structure. Somewhere behind the dirty, scraped windows was Leo. 

"We both go in and split up," Reyna offered, hand on her gun, "There should only be two of them."

"Okay. Our priority is finding Leo," Jason reminded her, adrenaline already awakening back in his bloodstream. 

"Of course," Reyna muttered, taking the safety off her gun, her eyes set and determined. Jason took his own gun out, glad that he had decided to bring the girl.

"Right, let's try that door," Jason pointed to the main door, which was rusty and shut. The two of them silently dashed from behind the burned out carcass of car they had been squatting behind and made it across the abandoned street to the door. Reyna immediately pulled on it, and surprisingly the door opened though it did so with an unholy creak. Jason winced as the noise echoed off the street and then squeezed in through the new-made gap. Reyna didn't risk opening the door all the way as she slipped in after him. 

The inside of the warehouse was spacious and dark, the windows letting in little light. The air was musty and mouldy in Jason's mouth and there was a stench of piss and vomit around. Jason assumed it was the favourite place of drunkards to pass out. He made a face and stepped forward in the gloom, gun raised. His foot scraped against a used up needle.  _Something more than drunkards then,_ he thought as he and Reyna stealthily moved from the room. It was obviously empty though Jason felt like he was being watched. 

"I'll go upstairs," he whispered to Reyna, pulling her close, "You check this floor and secure the doors. If I'm not back soon-"

"I know what to do, Grace," she said. He nodded curtly once and then started for the rough-stone stairs leading up to the second flight. Bottles, glass and other rubbish dotted the stairs and Jason had to be careful what he stepped on. There was no porch on the stairs and they were just suspended with no walls on either side. If he fell he had a horrible feeling his neck would snap. 

Upstairs there was a little bit more light which came in through two broken windows, but the state of the building wasn't much better. Black mould hugged the walls, and water trickled from the ceiling. Everything smelled rotten. Jason breathed through his mouth as he inched forwards, gun raised and heart in his throat. He welcomed the feeling - it was familiar, comforting. Jason could feel each of his nerves again, his senses sharper, the same way it was during each raid. 

The man passed several small rooms, but they were all dark and empty. The warehouse was big, and Jason felt a bit like a mouse trapped by a cat. When he reached a closed door his skin spiked with anticipation. He took the safety off his gun, just in case, and with one hand pushed the door open. It made the same ungodly noise as the one downstairs and Jason fought a wince.

Inside the room everything was grey. A broken chair sat in the centre, as if part of some abstract art display, pathetic and old. It was the only furniture in the room. In the corner, curled up, was Leo. His hands were pulled behind his back, and his t-shirt was stained with dust and dirt from the floor. His cheek was scraped, his lip and nose crusted with dry blood. He looked half-dazed. 

"Leo," Jason felt all the tension, fear and heaviness leave his body at once and he dropped his hand, forgetting about his gun, forgetting about everything as he rushed to the Latino.

"J-Jason?" the boy asked quietly, confused. Jason crouched next to him and was about to undo the binds on his wrists but thought better of it, instead pulling the drowsy boy into his arms and holding him tightly, heart pounding.

"You're okay," he murmured, gripping him close. He was warm, and real, and alive, his hair tickled Jason's cheeks, "You're okay."

Leo didn't say anything and when Jason pulled away the boy just looked at him with owlish eyes, pupils dilated. Jason frowned as he reached behind the Latino to nimbly undo the ropes,

"What did they do?" he asked Leo, "Did they hurt you."

"Not much," Leo cracked a weak grin, "I gave him a black eye," he slurred. Jason freed Leo but the boy didn't move, just continued staring at the agent. There was something seriously wrong with him. Dread trickled into Jason's stomach but he had no time to worry about that as he hauled Leo to his feet. The boy stumbled as if his legs were cotton candy and then pressed his face against Jason's neck, "I'm scared," he whispered.

Jason's heart twisted, "It's okay. C'mon we have to go outside."

"I don't wanna," Leo mumbled, heavily leaning against Jason. He started tugging at his t-shirt, "Too hot in here," he slurred. The agent's fear spiked slightly as he batted the boy's hands away, every second they wasted was one second closer to being found out. So far the warehouse was sentient but he was scared that any moment the cartel could come after them. 

"We need to go home, Leo," Jason said, as gently as he could. He debated hoisting the limp boy into his arms but then opted against it - like that he'd be unable to protect them if anything happened. Instead he slipped an arm around the Latino's thin waist, "We need to go home."

They made is as far as the sunny corridor when the girl appeared on the other end, carrying a cup of instant noodles. She dropped them the second her bright eyes landed on Jason and Leo, and whipped out her gun. Jason changed his mind. In the pictures she might've looked young and innocent but in person Calypso Ogygia was different. The lines of her face were sharp, her eyes hard, her body lean and tough like one of a fighter. Her hands were steady on her gun.

"Agent Grace," she hissed, like a snake. Jason carefully let Leo go and the boy leaned against the wall. Calypso shot the wall right next to Jason's shoulder, causing him to flinch violently though Leo didn't react, staring into space absently, "Don't move!"

"Okay! Okay!" adrenaline pumped through Jason as he raised his hands above his head. 

"Weapons on the floor. Now." Calypso's eyes narrowed. Jason hesitated and she shot the wall again, "I said  _now."_

Jason knew she was scared, otherwise she wouldn't be wasting her bullets so precariously. That made him feel a little bit more confident, knowing that she was afraid too. He reached behind his waistband and Calypso kept her eyes trained on his movements, though she didn't try and move closer to him, keeping the length of the hallway between them like a shield. Jason slowly, carefully laid the gun on the ground.

"Kick it towards me," there was clear triumph in Calypso's voice and Jason did as he was told. Atlas hadn't come running yet, which must've meant that he wasn't present. Calypso was alone, but she was afraid and had a gun. Jason knew that scared people with guns were more dangerous than assassins, because you'd never know what they'd do.

"What happened to Leo?" Jason asked, glancing worriedly at his friend, who slid to the ground and continued to stare blankly into space.

"Some Ambrosia," Calypso clicked the safety off her gun but didn't try to pick up Jason's weapon, "He was being annoying."

"Where's Atlas?" Jason demanded. The line of Calypso's lips tightened,

"I'm the one asking the questions," she growled, "Why did you come here when we clearly told you not to?!"

"I came for Leo," Jason said. The boy on the floor didn't react, "You hurt him."

"He'll be fine," Calypso snapped. 

"So what now?" Jason asked, "I know Atlas isn't here."

"I could kill you," Calypso seethed.

"Not without your father's permission," Jason was growing more confident. 

Calypso advanced on him suddenly, like a panther, "Not everything is up to my father!" she yelled in a fury that came from wounded pride, pressing the cold barrel of her gun against Jason's forehead. Up close she didn't seem that threatening, and she had to lean up to even reach Jason's forehead. She smelled like she needed a shower and her eyes were rolling with anger and confusion and fear, "I make decisions around here too!"

"I'm sure you do," Jason said calmly. With a quick movement he curled his hand around the girl's wrist, twisting it to the left before she could react. He heard a crack and with a cry Calypso let go of the gun, which landed between Leo's knees. The boy made no move to try and pick it up as the girl collapsed next to him, wailing and clutching her wrist,

"You broke it!" she sobbed, "You bastard!"

"I only twisted it, relax," Jason said, but he felt kind of bad. Calypso was still a young girl, and she was crying, and Jason had a big heart, "Look, just don't move and I won't have to hurt you more and put you in handcuffs," he said though the girl didn't seem to hear him. Jason picked up her gun from Leo's hands. The boy had started to absently play with it and Jason didn't want him to accidentally shoot his foot off. He went and picked up his own gun too, shoving the former behind his belt, "We're going downstairs."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Calypso spat viciously. Jason hauled her up by the elbow, annoyed and agitated. He just wanted to go back home with Leo and make sure the boy was okay. He realised hopelessly that he couldn't drag both Calypso and Leo downstairs,

"I'll be right back Leo, okay?" he asked, but the boy just stared at the wall blankly, "If this kills him...," Jason growled at Calypso. The girl glared at him, cradling her wrist to her chest,

"He'll be fine," she hissed, "it was a small dose. In a few hours he'll be okay."

"Good," Jason exhaled. He pulled Calypso to the staircase and pushed her so she walked in front of him, his gun trained on her back, "Walk slowly, no sudden movements," he warned. The girl shot him a look over her shoulder and started to descend the unsafe stairs. Jason kept glancing behind him, hoping that Leo somehow got up and followed them but he had no such luck. 

He made it to the bottom of the steps, right behind Calypso. The warehouse floor was empty, "Reyna?" he called, voice echoing back at him. There was a click of a gun,

"No," Atlas stepped out of the little alcove behind the stairs, his own gun raised. His eyes were furious and strained, as if he was carrying the weight of the world. His weapon was trained on Jason, "Let my daughter go."

"No," Jason said, pulling Calypso back against him, his gun against her temple. He wouldn't really shoot her, it was more of a defence. The girl struggled and tried to kick him  but Jason was stronger, "You're going to prison."

Atlas glared, and Jason saw that he had a black eye. _Leo,_ Jason thought fondly, "Like hell," the man spat at the dirty floor.

"Police are on their way," Jason lied; he had no time to call for backup. He didn't know where Reyna was, "There's nowhere for you to go."

"Well I guess we'll all die then," Atlas bared his teeth at Jason. He had a strong Greek accent, stronger than his child. The agent knew that the cartel had a fierce sense of loyalty towards one another and he was actually afraid that Atlas meant what he said - that he'd be stupid enough to die instead of get arrested, "You'll shoot her," Atlas looked right into Jason's eyes, "and then I'll shoot you, before you even have time to aim at me. And then I'll go upstairs and shoot that little friend of yours. And then I'll shoot myself."

"Great plan," Reyna stated, coming up behind Atlas as if from the shadows, her gun against the back of his head, "Except you won't even have time to pull the trigger."

" _Skýla,"_ Atlas swore and dropped the gun. The clatter sounded loud in the empty warehouse. In the distance Jason heard the wail of sirens. Calypso kicked him suddenly, in a final effort to get free, but Jason just twisted her arms behind her back. It was over. He pulled out the handcuffs and when they clicked shut, relief flooded him. 

***

After an initial examination they let Jason take Leo home, promising that the effects of Ambrosia would pass soon. Leo was communicating a bit more as they stumbled into their flat in the early evening, but his eyes were still dazed and he acted seriously drunk.

"'M fine," he complained when Jason forced him to drink a glass of water. He sloshed some over the side before he managed to take a sip.

"Whatever you say, big guy," Jason said fondly. He was so happy that Leo was home that nothing could ruin his mood. He brushed Leo's curls from his forehead as the boy drank, unable to stop touching him. It didn't hit Jason how close he had come to losing the boy until they returned home. The idea that the flat could be Jason's alone, without Leo's clothes strewn all over the floor was too horrible to think about, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Mhmmm," Leo hummed in agreement, and the glass clumsily slipped from his fingers. Jason caught it quickly before too much of the liquid could spill and carried it back to the kitchen. When he came back Leo was struggling with his shirt, tangling it around his elbows.

"What are you doing?" Jason was amused.

"Too many clothes," Leo slurred, pouting like a child, "It's hot in here." Jason shook his head and helped the boy untangle himself. 

"You should go to sleep - you'll feel better," the blonde said as Leo started struggling with his dirty, ripped sweatpants. He left them in a heap on the floor and didn't say anything as Jason led him towards his bedroom. He went as far as tucking Leo in, making sure the boy was warm enough. He kind of wanted to hover over him, make sure he was okay. He was so happy the boy was back that he could've cried. Leo was very quickly falling under though, ready to sleep, looking like a tiny burrito in the blankets. Jason leaned down and kissed his forehead, unable to stop himself, "I love you."

"Love you too," Leo mumbled sleepily. It hurt to know he didn't really mean it. 

Jason retreated from his friend's room, knowing that they'd have to have a very hard conversation when he woke up. Exhaustion hit Jason like a wave and he yawned, stretching. He shuffled to his own room, leaving Leo in peace, and collapsed on his bed, wrapping himself up in his blankets. He had a text from Reyna, short and sweet,  _Good work, Agent Grace._ He texted her back and fell asleep with a smile on his face; everything was okay. 

***

When Jason woke up it was late in the night and a pair of dark brown eyes were inches from his face, staring at him. 

"Leo?" Jason asked breathlessly, heartbeat escalating. He became aware of the boy; pressed close against him. From what Jason could piece together he was only wearing his underwear, his bare skin warm against Jason. The Latino's small hands were curled against Jason's chest, their legs tangled together. Their noses were brushing from the proximity they were lying in.

"I feel tipsy," Leo admitted, though he didn't sound as slurred anymore. Jason exhaled in relief and cradled the boys cheek in his hand, stroking his cheekbone. Leo's eyes fluttered shut. Jason knew that they were a bit too close for it to be considered casual but he didn't care - he was glad for how close Leo was, he wanted to wrap him up in his arms and protect him. And the Latino seemed to like the touch, as if it re-assured him. Jason wanted to tell him a thousand things, the things that for a few hours he was scared he'd never be able to tell him ever again. He wanted to say  _I'm glad you're back_ and  _I was so scared_ and  _I love you._

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he whispered. Leo's eyes sparkled,

"Are you kidding?" he gushed, "You're a secret _agent!_ How cool is that! Much cooler than a drug dealer anyway. Oh man...I wish you would've told me, but I get it," he smiled so sweetly that Jason wanted to kiss him, "It's top secret and all that. I'll pretend that I don't know anything, I don't wanna get kidnapped and taken to Area 51."

"Area 51 is a scam," Jason rolled his eyes. Leo's expression softened and he shifted closer to Jason. He bit his lip and hesitated for a moment.

"I was scared. I thought that you wouldn't come," he admitted quietly, "at the beginning, when Calypso gave me the drug. I was paranoid, thought you left me."

"I'd never leave you, Leo," Jason frowned. 

"I know. But the drug...it made me see things. It was horrible, I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. When you came...I didn't know if it was actually you."

"Calypso...," Jason started but Leo made a face,

"Please let's not talk about her," he whispered. Outside LA traffic continued into the late hours of the night, "You warned me, I should've listened but instead I went to see her. Turns out she didn't want me after all."

"It wasn't your fault," Jason said, "I should've told you the whole story."

" _Secret_ agent, Jas," Leo stated, " _Secrecy_ is the whole point."

"I know. But it's... _you._ You deserved to know."

"I know now," Leo close his eyes and snuggled closer, "It doesn't matter, let's not talk about it anymore."

"She was an idiot. You deserve better than her," Jason tried to re-assure the boy.

"I want to sleep, do you mind if I nap here?"

"Nah," Jason smiled, his breath brushing against Leo's lips. He was so close and so warm, and he smelled like cinnamon and faintly of motor oil. Jason's heart felt too big for his chest, "Leo?"

"Hmmm?" the boy asked tiredly.

"I was scared too."

"It's okay now."

They lapsed into silence, and Jason continued stroking Leo's cheek. The boy didn't seem to mind. 

"Leo?" he whispered after a few minutes.

"Hmmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"No, you idiot," Leo snorted but didn't open his eyes.

"Did you love Calypso?"

The boy was quiet for a second and Jason's heart twisted, and then, "No. I don't think so."

A few more minutes passed, Leo was melted into Jason's side, breathing softly. The agent's heart pounded, he was subconsciously waiting for the boy to fall asleep but a part of him still knew it was a gamble.

"Leo?"

Silence.

"I love you."

Leo's eyes flickered open. They were muddled and sleepy, but they looked right into Jason's,

"I love you too idiot," he mumbled. Jason huffed out an annoyed breath. He could waste his words trying to clumsily explain his feelings to Leo but he didn't know ones big enough to explain that feeling in his chest, all of that affection and admiration and love building up inside of him. He had kept them a secret too long, and it took almost losing Leo for him to realise that he needed to confess. But instead of saying anything Jason just leaned forward and gently captured Leo's lips, kissing him impossibly sweetly. Leo's lips were slightly chapped, and hopelessly soft, parting beneath Jason's in a huff of surprised breath. Jason didn't try to deepen the kiss, just marvelled at the few precious seconds he got to be this close to the boy he was so desperately in love with. He cradled Leo's face in his hand and kissed him with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed. He was pretty sure he was trembling by the time he pulled away. 

Leo had closed his eyes and opened them down, dazed.

"Why'd you stop?" he mumbled. Jason's heart clenched painfully in his chest, 

"I love you," he offered as an explanation.

"I heard you the first time," Leo replied. They stared at each other for a long moment. 

"I'm  _in_ love with you."

"I  _know_ what you mean," Leo sighed, as if dealing with a child. He gripped Jason by the back of the head and drew him in for another kiss, and Jason couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to do with his hands so he let them slide down Leo's bare sides to rest on his hips, thumbs brushing circles into his skin. Leo's lips parted beneath his again and Jason licked inside of his mouth, feeling as drunk as Leo had hours ago. He pulled the boy as close as if he wanted them to mould into one. Leo pulled back so their lips brushed when they kissed, "and I said I love you too,  _idiot."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos my loves <3


	2. Greek Horror Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 1942; seventeen year old Nico commits suicide in the house on 1120 Westerchester Place. He spends years stuck in the house as a ghost, growing more and more miserable and unable to follow where the other spirits go.  
> Seventy four years later Percy Jackson dies of cancer in the house. He's the only one who doesn't move on.  
> Inspired by American Horror Story: Murder House  
> Nico is based on Tate Langdon.

**Greek Horror Story**

**May 1932**

They moved from Greece when he was eight. Nico di Angelo didn't understand why his mother decided to do that; Greece had been peaceful, all sapphire seas and white towns that hugged cliff-sides. There had been no war there. Los Angeles was a different story. Newspaper boys on every street-corner screamed about how the war was inevitable. Nico had to learn a whole new language and the children at his school bullied him because he was unable to lose his Greek accent. But no matter how much Nico and his sister, Bianca, begged to return to Greece, to their home and the rest of their family, their mother just mumbled something about American dreams that Nico had no idea about and served her new American lover beer. 

At ten he was sent to a boarding school. He remembered bruises blooming on his ribs from the kicks the other boys served him, and the words they threw at him,  _Faggot, sissy, queer._ It was a hazy memory of rulers slapped on his wrists, and crying quietly into his scratchy pillow at night, and of being locked in small cupboards until he couldn't breathe. When Nico turned thirteen he was allowed to come back home. His mothers great love had decided to abandon her. She turned to alcohol, and Nico felt trapped in the big, beautiful house that was slowly falling into ruin without the money from his mother's lover.

**September 1940**

Three years later the war broke out. Nico was too young to go into the army but his sister went into a munitions factory, working day and night. She tried desperately to repair their home while Nico became the boy on the corner street, shouting about the war. In 1941, when everything was well and truly underway and Pearl Harbour had been bombed, Nico tried to become a soldier. They all told him the same thing - _You're too skinny_ and  _You're unhealthy_ and  _You're too weak to be in the army._ His mother just called him a disappointment, no matter how many times Nico tried to join. He always heard the same thing, and he grew to be ashamed of who he was. But it wasn't his fault - he had asthma, something that developed because of his mother's horrible smoking habits. He had diabetes and low blood pressure. He was sickly. 

**November 1942**

It was the year that Bianca - the only person who ever loved Nico - was killed in a bombing in her factory. Nico wasn't allowed to see her body, and they said she was too mutilated to look at. Nico watched his house, his home, his mother, deteriorate as the war progressed, and he was hopeless to do anything. His mother took everything out on him; she blamed him for her lover leaving, for Bianca's death. She said that if he was strong enough to go into the army and earn 'proper money' then Bianca wouldn't have gone into the factory, wouldn't have been killed.

That same year, when Nico couldn't look at his mother trying to drink herself to death anymore, when Greece was just a distant memory, he tied a rope around the branch of the maple tree in their garden - his favourite. It was a sunny day, the sky clear and bright. Life continued just outside the walls of the house, and his mother had gone out some place or other, maybe to church to ask for penance. Nico was alone, the breeze was ruffling his hair and making the noose creak in the wind. In 1942 Nico hanged himself in the backyard of his house - a disgraceful, cowardly death of a boy who had never been a soldier. 

Nico hadn't thought of it at the time; he had just wanted sweet relief from his horrible, worthless life. He was horrified to find that long after his corpse was taken off of the noose and buried in the damp, stinking earth, he remained. He remained until the war ended and all the other boys returned home, waving flags. He remained until his mother died, chocking on her own vomit. She came to him as they carried her body out.  _Why are you still here?_ she asked, and when Nico tried to follow her past the gate he was unable to. He remained in the house, in the garden, antsy, paranoid, waiting for an explanation as to why he was stuck there.

None came. Nico was cursed to remain in the house for eternity it seemed, and he now knew what he was. _Fántasma_. A ghost.

Nico didn't know why he was imprisoned in the house he hated so much. He tried everything that came to mind; climbing over the fences, running out into the street. But it was impossible for him to make it past the gates of the house, leaving him confined to the building and the garden for what seemed like forever. At first there was hysteria and panic, then fear, then sadness, then agony and agitation. And after that there was just numbness. Nico accepted the fact that he left no imprint on the world, that nobody remembered the boy who lived in the house on 1120 Westerchester Place. He was stuck as a seventeen year old ghost, for eternity. That was his punishment for his suicide. 

His only relief came from a place that he started to refer to as the 'spirit room.' He knew it didn't  _actually_ exist. In his house there had always been a part of a wall that was empty, and behind it was nothing but water pipes. And yet after his death Nico found that there was a door on that specific wall. It was a normal door, wooden and sturdy and when Nico couldn't handle his curiosity anymore he found that behind it was a room. It was impossibly big for the space that the house allowed, but it didn't matter since it wasn't real anyway. But Nico liked the room; it had a double bed, a nice cream couch, a wardrobe though it was empty, a few books and no windows. When Nico was in the spirit room he felt more...grounded, more real. When he slept in the bed he actually left imprints on the blankets. 

Families came and went and at the beginning Nico tried to communicate with them, desperate for some kind of contact. But he could do nothing more than cause the occasional step to creak of light to flicker. The children saw him sometimes; he talked with some of them, just because he was so desperate for any kind of human connection. He felt like there was a veil between him and the real world and as the years dragged on he became more miserable. Even the kids grew up and they forgot their friend Nico from day to day, and eventually their families moved on and new ones moved in. 

Nico could do little more than stand by the gate or by the window and watch mournfully as the world around him changed. Buildings were knocked down and new ones stood in their place, bigger, better, more modern. Cars changed in the blink of an eye, fashion did with each season. Nico saw all of it - the nervous, grey streets in the late 40's. In the papers that Nico read over the shoulder of the man who lived at Westerchester place then it said something about a Cold War. He saw the marches as new presidents were re-elected, Truman and Nixon and Kennedy, talking at him from a black and white box in the living-room that stood where once there was his dining table. He saw the anti-war protests on the streets in the 50's, people burning their medals and fighting against whatever was happening in Vietnam. He saw the peaceful protests and marches in the 60's, where coloured and white people mixed freely, fighting for equality. It was then, more than ever, that Nico wanted to be out on the streets, to be alive. He knew what it was like to be discriminated for where you came from, but all he could do was stare out of the window, hearing the faint humming of the people outside. In 1963 he saw the grieving procession outside, and heard the news of the assassination of President Kennedy. He saw the televised massacre at Mai Lai in Vietnam in 1969, holding his breath at the horrors alongside the elderly couple that lived at 1120 at the time. He stopped watching the television that same year. When he saw the mass of people in black aching for the lives lost in Washington after a terrorist attack in 2001 he stopped looking out of the window. 

He tried searching for Bianca, his sister, but she seemed to have "moved on," whatever that meant. Over the years six people died in the 1120 house and Nico guiltily but eagerly sat by their corpses, waiting for one of them to join him, to explain what was happening and tell him when it would end. He never saw any of them. His mother was the only other ghost he ever encountered, and she abandoned him, even in death. 

**June 2006**

A new family moved into the house, though Nico barely noticed. He had become a ghost of a ghost, barely aware of his surroundings. The house had been vacated for almost two summers as people complained of "things going missing" and "noises at night." Some though the house was haunted, and Nico agreed that it was - by him, though he didn't mean to do it. More than anything he wanted to get out of the wretched place. 

The new family was one of three. There was a nice, pretty middle aged woman with chestnut hair. Her name was Sally Jackson. Her boyfriend was called Paul Blofis and he had salt-and-pepper hair. He was the step-father to Sally's eight year old son, Percy. When Nico saw them move in from where he was perched on the balustrade by the stairs he did little more than sigh. The couple seemed sweet, and in love, and their child was too old to see or bother him, so Nico was starting to get comfortable with the thought that there would be someone living in his house again. He really didn't mind that much - it was better than living alone.

"Percy, why don't you go look at your room?" Sally's muffled voice came from downstairs. Nico didn't have the energy to move as the nine year old came blundering up the stairs. He was a cute kid - big, sea-blue eyes, messy black hair. Nico looked at him tiredly, not really thinking much. He was exhausted, though there was no way to fix that. It was just his permanent state. 

He startled when the kid stopped a few steps away from him, eyes wide and staring right into Nico's. The boy swallowed.

"Who are you?" the child asked, voice a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"Nico," the ghost got past his shock, "and who are you?"

"Percy. What are you doing in my house?"

"I live here," Nico shrugged. He knew from experience that one of three things would happen now; Percy would run crying to his parents, who would re-assure him that there was nobody in the house. Or Percy would brush Nico off and go to his room. Or he'd understand who Nico was. 

"You're a ghost," the boy said in disbelief, picking option three, "like a real ghost."

"That's me," Nico said tiredly. He looked longingly towards the spirit room but Percy clambered up the stairs further, curiosity winning over fear.

"Why are you here?" he gushed in a hushed voice, "Did you  _die_ here?"

Nico was used to the questions, "Yes."

"What's that thing you're wearing?" little Percy pointed at Nico's outfit. He was in the same clothes that he had hung himself in; a collared white shirt and a pair of brown suspenders. There was a cap on his head, covering his dark hair. The boy shrugged again.

"We used to wear this in the forties."

"The _forties._ Were you in the war?!" Percy's eyes were as big as saucers and Nico winced, "You look like those people in movies that go to war. Can I see your uniform?"

He was so adorable and excited and...It's been twenty three years since Nico last spoke to a kid, or anyone really. The last child had been three and just kind of forgot him one morning. Nico hated how needy he was. He wished he could just ignore everyone in the house, just stay in the spirit room. But he was so damn  _lonely,_ and the fact that this Percy kid wasn't scared of him despite how old he was, was wonderful. So of course Nico indulged him. 

Percy didn't draw pictures of the two of them like some of the younger kids had, but he still told his parents about his 'special' friend, Nico. They didn't really pay it much mind. Nico's days became filled with hanging out with Percy. When the boy went to school Nico would lie lifelessly in the spirit room and stare at the ceiling, thinking about why he was stuck in the hellhole that was 1120 Westerchester Place. Percy was his only escape and Nico lost himself in the little boy's tales of his life. The kid told him about school and about his friends, and about how much the world changed since the last time Nico bothered to check. It carried on like that for almost a year, and the Jackson's might've become a bit more concerned with the 'haunting.' Nico was out of the spirit room more with Percy around so occasionally smashed a teacup by accident or ruffled curtains or made the stairs creak. 

But of course it couldn't continue like that forever. Exactly two weeks after Percy's ninth birthday, the year of Hurricane Kyrill, the Baghdad market bombing and the Trolley Square Shooting, the boy can't see Nico anymore. At first the ghost was hysterical, screaming at Percy to see him, trying to stand in front of the boy to block his path. The child just passed through him, leaving a hollow feeling in Nico's stomach. The boy hid in the spirit room, curled up on the bed and cried like a baby, the same way he did every time that he was left alone again. 

**January 2011**

The Jackson's continue to live at 1120, and to Nico  _they_ feel like ghosts, passing by him. Every time he saw Percy his heart twisted with pain of knowing that he was by himself again. But the boy impacted his life some; Nico forced himself to go and watch TV every night. He always sat next to Paul, perched on the edge of the couch, and the man would feel a chill each time and have to pull a blanket over himself when Nico's shoulder brushed against his. 

In 2011, when Percy was thirteen, he was diagnosed with cancer. Nico remembered that moment weirdly clearly; Paul leading Percy and Sally into the house. He looked shocked, his face pale, his hands trembling when he places the car keys on the table. Sally is crying, though she's trying not to. Her big eyes are filled with tears that spill down her cheeks. She wouldn't let go of Percy, cradling him in her arms as if he was still a baby though he was almost taller than her. Percy himself was just staring into space, not really seeing anything as his mother clung onto him, smoothing his hair. When Paul eventually convinced her to let the boy go he crept up to his room, past Nico. Despite himself the ghost followed him, because he didn't really know what was happening. He watched as Percy looked around his room, as if in a trance, lost and confused. And then the boy collapsed on his bed, pressed his face against the pillows, and started to cry. 

Nico wanted to comfort him then, but he could offer no comfort, so he left. 

The next few years were a battle and Nico, who had long ago abandoned the hope that any of those who died in the house would stay with him, was desperately rooting for Percy. He was with the boy through it all, even though Percy didn't know it. Somehow his sickness struck a spark back inside of him - Nico was full of life, full of determination to let Percy live. He'd wait in the driveway when the Jackson's pulled in to see how Percy was after each visit at the hospital. 

But the boy's health deteriorated. His hair started to fall out because of chemotherapy, he became weak and couldn't move much, staying in the house. Nico couldn't help but think how unfair the universe was. 

**March 2016**

AMfter weeks at the hospital, Sally Jackson finally won against the medical staff and brought her nineteen year old son home. He was just a shell of what he should've been, and when they laid him in bed, plugged up to all sorts of machines, he almost looked nine again. He was there for a few days, breath rattling through his ruined lungs. Sally sat by him. Paul sat by him. Nico sat by him. Friends and family came to visit, to say their goodbye's. 

Nico would've been seventy one, and he was with Percy that night. He was sitting cross legged next to him on the bed as the machine  _beep, beep, beeped,_ and he knew the exact moment when death appeared in the room. Nico couldn't stand to see the moment the light went out of Percy's eyes. Instead he raced to Sally's and Paul's room, passed through the door and hovered over their sleeping forms.

"Wake up," he whispered, but they didn't stir. Nico didn't want Percy to die alone - he knew how horrible it was, "Wake up!" he yelled and Sally sat up, gasping for breath. She knew instantly, and Nico followed her out into the corridor. They parted and Nico dashed into the spirit room, slamming the door closed behind him like some scared child. He curled up on the bed and listened to the wails of Sally as he child slipped away, listened to the howl of the ambulance as it arrived. It was too late. In 2016, aged nineteen, Percy Jackson passed away after fighting his illness for years. 

After Sally's sobs died away and the ambulance drove off with her and Paul and Percy's body, Nico tried to sleep. For the first time in almost ten years he was alone in the house again. His tears dripped down his cheeks and wet his pillows but Nico didn't care. He stared at the candles in the room, the ones secured to the walls, the ones that never went out. They flickered with life. There was a pain in Nico's chest. 

A knock sounded on the door. 

For a second Nico thought that someone had stayed in the house and was knocking on some other door in the house. But then the impatient sound came again and with a started breath of air Nico realised someone was knocking on  _his_ door. The spirit door that didn't really exist. Trembling, Nico slid off of the bed and stumbled to it. A part of him was terrified. Maybe it was death, coming to take him back again. He wanted it to be so, and yet he was still terrified.  _I don't want to go!_ he wanted to yell,  _not yet!_

When the door swung open, it wasn't death waiting for Nico. It was Percy. 

They stared at each other, wide-eyed. Percy looked healthy, tall and strong, not wasted away like his body had been. He was dressed in his favourite orange summer camp t-shirt and a pair of scruffy jeans. His hair was dark and wild, and his blue eyes full of disbelief. Nico couldn't move, couldn't speak. 

"Nico?" Percy whispered eventually. 

"Huh?" Nico muttered intelligently, still staring. He didn't understand why Percy was here - why he hadn't moved on. The boy grinned at him,

"I knew you were real!" he exclaimed, too full of joy for someone who had just died. 

"What are you doing here?" Nico whispered, " _Why_ are you here?"

Percy frowned, "What do you mean? I'm dead, aren't I?" there was a twinge of sadness in his voice then, "Isn't this where all the dead people go?"

"N-No," Nico stuttered. Percy stretched his arms over his head and grinned,

"God, this feels amazing," he said with a happy sigh, "Cancer's a bitch."

"Percy-," Nico swallowed, "This...this isn't heaven, or afterlife or whatever. This is...I don't know what this is. It's bad business. But you're not meant to be here. Everyone who dies moves on to some place else, they don't stay  _here."_

"Then why are _you_ here?" Percy frowned.

"I-I don't know," Nico admitted. Percy's expression softened,

"Wait...have you been alone all these years?"

"Yes. Whatever. It doesn't matter," Nico inhaled shakily, "Look, you need to go through the gate."

"What gate?" Percy asked.

" _Your_ gate, your front gate," Nico was getting frustrated. He desperately wanted Percy to stay - wanted someone to be with him. But he couldn't force Percy into the hell he was living in, he'd never forgive himself for it. The boy wasn't a coward like him, he deserved peace.

"But...," Percy bit his lip, "I want to see my mom."

Despite the fact that he was 'technically' older than Nico by two years, despite the fact that he was taller, despite the fact that he was stronger, in that second all Nico could see was that eight year old who happily explained to him what a cellphone was. His stomach tightened,

"You're a ghost. She can't see you anyway," Nico whispered. He brushed past Percy, careful not to touch him. He didn't remember what it felt like to touch someone and he was scared that if he did it now he'd become addicted, and everything would just get so much worse after Percy left, "Come on. I'll take you to the gate."

Percy was still in awe of everything. As Nico led him downstairs he kept touching everything and watching his hand pass through things, eyes mesmerised. The night was beautiful, the moon a silver crescent in the sky. The neighbourhood was awake, though quiet. Everyone saw the ambulance, everyone knew what had happened. They were waiting for the Jackson's to return to offer their condolences. Regardless of knowing it wouldn't work, Nico opened the gate and tried to step through. An invisible wall stopped him, roughly pushing him backwards. He tried not to be bitter.

"Go on," he said sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest in disappointment. Percy gave him an uncertain look, "Go on," Nico repeated, "Trust me, you don't want to be stuck here."

Percy went over to the gate and paused again, then took one step outside. No invisible barrier stopped him and where his foot touched the pavement outside, it began to dissolve. Startled Percy leaped back, his foot intact. Nico groaned in annoyance. He just wanted Percy to move on so he could cry in peace,

" _Go."_

"What if I don't want to?" Percy turned to Nico, his eyes full of moonlight. Nico swallowed nervously, "What if I want to stay here?"

"Y-You can't."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," Nico snapped, "Are you bonkers?! You need to leave."

Percy kicked the gate closed, "No thanks. I like it here."

Nico looked at him in disbelief as the boy casually sauntered back into the house. The Greek hurried after him,

"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, jumping in front of Percy to block the door.

"Going back into my house?" the boy offered, puzzled. 

"Just please go through the gate," Nico pleaded.

"No thanks," Percy repeated and then gently pushed past Nico. The boy gasped as their shoulders brushed together, feeling warmth spread through him. He slumped against the doorway and subconsciously touched the place that Percy just had, allowing the boy to go up to the spirit room unobstructed. Nico gathered himself after a few minutes and glared heatedly at the gate as if saying  _it's all your fault._ Then he angrily turned back to the house and passed inside. 

Percy was walking around the spirit room, peering at the candles on the walls and inside the empty wardrobe, like some tourist in the museum.

"What is this place?" he asked, "This room wasn't here before."

"I call it the spirit room, it's the only place where ghosts can actually touch things," Nico was getting impatient, "You need to leave."

"Why are you so bothered? The gate's still going to be there tomorrow, and the day after. I'll go when I'm ready," Percy shrugged. He didn't realise how much that last line hurt Nico. He couldn't go when he was ready. He could never go. He stared at the red carpet in the room and exhaled shakily; he couldn't even be happy for the company because he knew that sooner of later Percy would realise the mistake he was making and move on, and Nico would be alone again, "You were a soldier weren't you?"

"What?" Nico snapped out of his glum thoughts. Percy was staring at him from across the room. Nico was only now coming to terms with how much the boy had grown. Because of the cancer he had always been frail and sickly, but now he looked the way he was  _meant_ to - tall and broad, with tanned skin and black, messy hair that fell into his blue eyes that sparkled in the dim light. He was gorgeous, and it was painful to think that because of cancer he was unable to be like that during his life, "No. I was never a soldier."

"But-," Percy frowned, "You said-"

"I know what I said," Nico snapped, remembering the eyes of the eight year old, full of awe when Nico told him about the war, "it was a lie, okay? Now it's late and I'd like to sleep. If you're so determined to stay here then be my guest, but you're not sleeping in  _my_ room."

"Where should I go then?" Percy frowned.

"Through the gate is my best suggestion," Nico growled, hauling the door open, "Now get out."

Percy's shoulders slumped but he must've realised that he upset Nico somehow so he shuffled towards the door. When he was passing Nico he hesitated and reached up,

"Look I-"

"Don't touch me," Nico flinched away. Hurt flickered in Percy's eyes and Nico hated the guilt that spread inside his stomach, "It's not you. It's just...I haven't had any kind of contact in over sixty years. I don't think I could handle it."

"Right," Percy said curtly, and then stepped outside. Nico slammed the door shut behind him. 

Of course he couldn't sleep. He laid awake and stared at the ceiling for hours, just thinking about this new phenomenon that took place in his life. It was just Nico's luck - when he was alone all he wanted was for somebody to be with him, and then when someone showed up he wanted them gone. But that wasn't it, he couldn't enjoy Percy's company knowing that they'd be stuck in hell forever, it would be like a constant black cloud over their heads. Nico just wanted Percy to go and be happy because he deserved to. 

He must've dozed off because the next thing he knew was that a car was pulling into the driveway - the Jackson's were home, only two of them. Sally was still crying and Nico was unable to fall asleep because of the muffled noise coming through the thin walls, despite all his tossing and turning, so he got up and walked downstairs. It wasn't like he needed sleep anyway. Sally Jackson was curled up on the couch, her crying now more quiet and soft, while Paul made her tea and something to eat in the kitchen, looking like a ghost himself. 

Percy was sitting next to his mom, somehow refraining from touching her. He was speaking to her,

"It's okay mom, it doesn't hurt anymore," he was whispering, eyes full of misery, "please don't cry, it's better now. The cancer's gone and I...it's better, mom, I swear."

"She can't hear you," Nico informed him. Percy sighed and he wasn't angry,

"I know."

Paul came in and placed tea on the table in front of Sally,

"Drink," he told her gently, "eat something."

Sally just shook her head. Percy turned to Nico, "How do I tell her I'm here?!" the Greek was taken aback at the raw desperation in his voice. Percy passed through the table and couch and came to Nico. Before the boy could react Percy grabbed his hands. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through Nico, tingling all the way up his spine and then down to his toes. Percy's hands were rough and warm and solid, "Nico  _please."_

"Y-You...," Nico was finding hard to keep it together with Percy touching him. He swallowed uneasily, "You can m-move things sometimes, or curtains. Sometimes she can h-hear you, if s-she's about to fall asleep-"

Percy broke away and Nico hated himself for missing the feeling of his hands on his. The boy raced through the furniture and then hurriedly flapped his hand around in the curtain. It didn't move. Frustrated Percy tried again,

"It doesn't always work," Nico put in. Percy's shoulders slumped again,

"I hate this," he whispered.

"Then leave," Nico said, but Percy didn't reply. The Greek's irritation spiked, "Oi! Cold fish, didn't you hear me?! I said  _leave."_

"No," Percy came back to stand by Nico while Paul talked to Sally in gentle tones, "I'm curious as to why you're stuck here. Maybe you didn't accept your death or something."

Nico rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suspenders, "Oh please, I _know_ I'm dead."

"That's not what I meant. Have you ever heard of the five stages of grief?" Percy asked. Nico wrinkled his nose,

"No. I'm for the forties, remember?"

"Right," Percy nodded, "Well, the five stages of guilt-"

"Save it," Nico held his hand up, "Something stupid and obvious won't help. I've been stuck here for years, and you're no going to change that so you might as well leave."

Nico ignored Percy's protests as he floated up the stairs and into the spirit room, making sure to slam the door shut. He sighed when he was finally alone and reviewed a terrifying option - that he'd have to hide in the spirit room until Percy finally moved on. With nothing better to do, and feeling antsy, Nico curled up on the bed and tried to re-read one of his favourite Charles Dickens books, but he couldn't concentrate, his eyes constantly sliding towards the door as if expecting Percy to stride in. He didn't, and eventually it got too much for Nico.

When he came back out hours have passed and morning light streamed in through the windows. Paul sat with his head in his hands, looking over hospital and funeral paperwork. Nico passed through the door to Sally's room. The woman was in a foetal position on the bed, buried beneath the blankets, eyes red. Her hands were protectively wrapped around her belly, as if remembering when Percy hadn't been born yet - when he had been alive. The ghost of her child sat by her side, uncertainly looking over her. He stopped attempting to talk to her, and now, looking at his heartbroken expression, Nico was regretting being so harsh towards him.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling alien and weird in his mouth. Percy glanced at him and offered him a tired smile,

"I'm sorry too."

He continued looking at his mom. Nico's eyes scanned the room and landed on some wind-chimes by the closed window. Sally had got them four years ago from a travelling gypsy who told her it would bring good luck. The woman only kept them because she thought they were beautiful.

"Try them," Nico said, nodding at the chimes. Percy looked unsure for a second but he was desperate to communicate with his mother. As he went over to the chimes Sally started to doze off. Percy's fingers brushed against the trinket and it created a sweet sound that filled the room. Sally's eyes snapped open and she sat up abruptly, and stared at the chimes. She knew the window was closed - there was no draft in the room.

"Percy?" she whispered. 

"Mom!" Percy collapsed next to her bed, "Mom, I'm okay!"

But Sally's eyes were trained on the chimes. She ignored Percy's ghost and laid back down and the smile tumbled off of the boy's face.

"Cool down, cookie. It's a good start," Nico offered, as comfort. Percy stood up, 

"I'll let her sleep."

Nico followed him out onto the corridor. His emotions were all in a jumble and he was confused about what he was feeling; a part of him was delighted to have someone to talk to. A bigger part of him was afraid.

"So," Percy was still looking around, "What do you do all day?"

"Nothing really. I watch TV sometimes, with Paul. Or I stay in the spirit room."

"Spirit room...," Percy frowned, "the room that doesn't really exist."

"Yes, I suppose so," Nico bit his lip, "I can show you it to you properly if you want."

Percy nodded like an excited puppy, his whole face brightening up. He followed behind Nico as the Greek led him to the spirit room, feeling a little bit as if his privacy was being invaded but almost in a good way. Percy was intrigued with the spirit room, the same way he was intrigued with practically anything in his new form. His first hours as a dead person were drastically different to Nico's - where Percy spent his time trying to communicate with his parents and exploring the house, Nico had been screaming and crying and desperately trying to get out.

"You can sleep here, I suppose," Nico offered when they went into the room.

"On the bed?" Percy glanced at said bed, "with you?"

Nico flushed a bright red, "T-That's not what I meant-"

"Oh God," Percy slapped his hand across his forehead, "Chill, I didn't mean that either! I just thought you minded."

"I will if you keep making inappropriate suggestions like that!" Nico stuttered, flushed, heart pounding, "I'm not queer."

"Jesus Christ," Percy rolled his eyes, "You're a bit sensitive aren't you?"

"S-Shut up," Nico glared at his shoes, still as polished as they were the day he died. Percy went quiet, studying the bookshelf full of books, fingers gently trailing across their spines. 

"It's weird to think that you were here all this time," he mused, almost to himself, "As a kid I thought I was just imagining you but...I didn't understand why I would do that. I mean, your normal seven year old doesn't make up a teenage boy from the 40's as their imaginary friend, yeah?"

"Eight," Nico said quietly, "You were eight."

"Oh."

An awkward silence settled over the two boys and Nico started to fidget.

"Will you leave anytime soon?" he asked. Percy hesitated for a moment, his hand frozen over Nico's books. Then he turned slowly,

"I'll leave," he confirmed, and Nico didn't know whether to be sad or relieved, "but only if you agree to go through the five stages of grief with me."

Nico sighed in annoyance, "You have plenty of people grieving for you - you don't need me doing it too."

"No, I want you to grieve for yourself." Nico stared at him and Percy walked over to him, "look, just listen to me, okay? You've been stuck in the first stage for seventy years - shock and denial."

"I'm not in denial," Nico protested again, "I know I'm dead."

"But you're scared to move on, I can see that," Percy frowned, "for some reason you're scared of change - I think that's why you can't go through the gate."

"Well you know everything don't you?" Nico said sarcastically.

"Work with me and I'll be out of your hair," Percy said, and the prospect sounded tempting, "just go through the stages with me, you have nothing to lose."

"Fine," Nico crossed his arms over his chest protectively, "Go on then, Mr Psychiatrist."

Percy didn't seem to mind his tone, "Okay. Why do you want to stay here?"

"I don't!" Nico growled, exasperated, "I wish to do nothing more than leave this horrid place."

"Okay. And where would you want to go?" Percy sat down on the bed as if to seem less threatening. Nico bit his lip and thought - he couldn't remember many places he had been happy in his life, especially not this house full of memories of his alcoholic mother and his dead sister. But there was  _one_ place; the white cliffs and sapphire sea, the laughter of children on the sea breeze.

"Greece," Nico could almost picture it, "I think I'd like to go home."

"Why don't you like the house?" Percy frowned. 

"The forties...they weren't the best of times," Nico admitted quietly. For some reason he  _wanted_ to open up to Percy, if only a little bit, "I had this accent...I still have it a bit. The kids at my school didn't like that, they isolated me, bullied me if you will," he shrugged, feeling like he was complaining.

"It's cute," Percy completely threw him off track and Nico gave him a puzzled look, "Your accent. It's cute."

Nico flushed bright red and decided to ignore the comment, instead continuing with his story, "I never had any friends, and my mother...she liked to drink. Probably more than she should've. And then the war came," he exhaled, "and I thought that maybe if I go into the army she would...she would be proud, you know," his throat started to tighten up. He remembered his mother faintly, and her face was fuzzy and unclear, like a dream, "but in the army they said I wasn't strong enough and sent me home. I didn't have a girl, they all liked the soldiers in their uniforms, and I didn't have one. I thought that nothing could be worse than school or my house, but then the rejection from the army was worse, and now this...you can't blame me for thinking that whatever comes after would be even more horrible than what already is...," he stopped, his voice wavering, and swallowed, "anyway, this wasn't my favourite place."

Percy stared at him for a long, long moment, until Nico felt unbearably uncomfortable, and then he asked the question, "Nico, how did you die?"

Nico's stomach clenched, "I don't want to talk about it," he turned away from Percy abruptly and blinked the tears out of his eyes. Despite everything, despite all of it, he missed his mother. He wished she was here to comfort him. 

Nico heard rustling behind him and when he turned he saw that Percy was taking his clothes off - slipping out of his shirt to reveal a tanned, muscular body. Nico's body was hit with sudden warmth and he made a chocked-off sound before whirling back around and pressing his hands over his eyes,

"W-What are you doing?!" he demanded.

"I'm going to rest," Percy said, like it was obvious, "I'm bummed."

"D-Don't tell me you sleep naked!"

"You've been in this house for years don't tell me you didn't know that," Percy slipped beneath the covers and Nico turned around nervously,

"I-I never invaded your privacy," his voice sounded high-pitched. Percy nestled among the pillows,

"Good to know," he said casually. Nico stared at him from behind his fingers. He tried to force himself to just get into bed and stop being so scared but he couldn't do it. Instead he went out of the room and circled the house aimlessly. It was coming close to noon, but there were no windows in the spirit room so Nico wouldn't know. He checked up on Sally - the woman was in an anxious sleep. Paul was speaking on the phone with a funeral home. 

Nico went out into the garden and sat in the sunshine that he couldn't feel on his skin. Two doors down a few children were having a pool party, squealing and laughing. Nico closed his eyes and inhaled, and imagined he was still alive. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the tree in front of him. It had grown over the years and the branch Nico had used to tie his noose on was too high to reach now.

When he went back into the spirit room Percy was deeply asleep, a little crease between his eyebrows. Nico hovered near the door like a scared animal, hand on the doorknob. After several minutes he finally relaxed - Percy hadn't stirred or woken up. A certain type of tiredness overtook Nico, not the human kind where you need to sleep but a type of weariness. Nico liked to sleep, it gave him an illusion of normalcy. Eyes carefully trained on Percy to see if he'd wake up, he started to take his suspenders off, undoing the buckles and slipping the trousers off. He unlaced his shoes and laid them carefully by the foot of the bed, with his socks stuffed inside. He was left in his shirt and undergarments but he didn't dare take those off - not with Percy around. He slipped off his cap and left it on the nightstand and then buried himself beneath the blankets.

For the first time in seventy years the bed was warm when Nico lied down. Percy's lips were parted as he slept, breathing quietly, his eyelashes creating a fanned out shadows on his cheeks. Nico was careful to keep as far away from his as possible, tense and uncomfortable.  _You're dead, stop being so shy about everything,_ he scolded himself and forcefully shut his eyes, determined to keep them closed.

***

He was suffocating, and for a moment he didn't know why. There was warmth around him, everywhere, and he was trapped. Nico gasped and struggled and Percy woke with a start, loosening his arms which had been wrapped around the Greek boy. In his panic to get away, Nico tumbled off the bed. His skin was tingling where Percy had unconsciously hugged him and his heart pounded.

"What the hell?!" Nico demanded, standing up. He was trembling violently and didn't know how to stop, "I told you not to touch me! I'm not a  _fag!"_

Percy glared at him, "Are you done being homophobic?" he asked in a sleepy kind of annoyance. His hair stuck up in all directions and Nico just stood and stared. He wanted to cry. 

"P-Please, just leave."

"No," Percy stretched and yawned, the blankets pooling around his waist, "Let's do the second stage of grief, okay?" 

Nico slid down the wall and sat on the ground, glaring. His hands shook in his lap, "Fine."

"Alright, do you feel guilty about anything?"

Nico snorted humorlessly, "Everything."

"Tell me," Percy shifted so that he was facing Nico and the boy determinedly wouldn't look at him, the memory of the other boy's strong arms around him still too vivid. Nico picked at a loose thread of the carpet. 

"Bianca's death," he whispered. The memory of his sister was just as fuzzy as the one of his mother.

"Who's Bianca?" Percy frowned.

"My sister, she...," Nico swallowed past the lump in his throat, "she died in a bombing of a munition factory she worked at."

"Christ," Percy whispered, voice full of shock. Nico still wouldn't look at him, "How was that your fault? You weren't the one bombing it-"

"If I had been strong enough," Nico interrupted, voice full of self-hatred, "if I had been able to become a soldier and fight and bring in money then Bianca wouldn't have died - she would've been able to stay home, or work at one of the hospitals. Instead she had to go into a factory to pay for this house, because  _I_ couldn't do it, because my lungs were all wrong and I had asthma a-and...," his voice faltered, "my mother started d-drinking more because of t-that, a-and that was my f-fault too, and I k-killed myself a-and...it was all my fault."

"How can you say that?" Whatever professional tone Percy might've had before crumbled away now, and real emotion shone through, "It wasn't your fault they didn't accept you into the army. You said yourself that you were sick, and even nowadays you can't do much about asthma...and besides, your sister would've probably still gone to the factory, no matter if you were a soldier or not."

"What?" 

"If she was anything like you, and I have a feeling that she was," Percy smiled, "then I doubt she would've been able to stay at home during the war - she probably would've want to fight too, any way she could."

"I-I...," Nico blinked at the tears that sprung in his eyes suddenly. He had never thought about that; about what could've been. He had always blamed himself for what happened to Bianca, believed his mother's toxic words when she told him  _you murdered her,_ and yet now he could see truth in Percy's words. Bianca had been strong, fierce, she would've never stood idly by while people were being killed because of warfare.

"Your mother's alcoholism wasn't your fault either. You were a  _kid,_ Nico, you're still a kid...kind of. She should've taken care of you, instead she chose to ruin both of your lives."

"Fine," Nico whispered, still staring at the carpet, "But you can't tell me that my suicide wasn't my fault."

"No, I can't tell you that," Percy admitted after a small pause, "but what you did...you can't change time, Nico. You were scared, you did what you thought was best. I don't blame you for it."

"I blame m-myself," Nico whispered pathetically.

"You need to forgive yourself."

"No," Nico stood up and reached for his trousers, "I can't do that."

He got dressed and Percy let him, not saying anything anymore. Nico walked downstairs. It was twilight, the sun minutes from disappearing completely. Paul had gone out somewhere, Sally was still sleeping. When Nico walked out into the garden it was drowned in amber light. He could hear crickets in the fields behind the house, and if he craned his neck up he could see the sky darkening somewhere far, far above him, and stars coming out to twinkle at him. Around him there was so much life that it was breathtaking, almost too much. 

Nico walked over to the tree he had killed himself on and pressed his forehead against the rough bark. The tree was alive, the people in the house around him, the crickets in the grass, Sally up in the house. The only dead things were him, and Percy, and the stars above which had died thousands of years ago, their light only now reaching earth. It was all getting too much for Nico.

*** 

Two days later Paul was watching the news late into the night, eyes trained on the news anchor. Nico sat next to him, listening to terrorist upon terrorist attack. Things like that made him happy that he wasn't alive anymore - he had to deal with the war, the people now had to deal with many wars and other things too, things Nico couldn't wrap his head around.

"Have you always watched TV with him?" Percy was leaning against the barrier on the stairs, interrupting Nico's peace. 

"How long are you going to stay here?" the boy bit back. 

"I don't know why you want to get rid of me so much, I'm not that bad, am I?" Percy teased as he sat down on Paul's other side, "Besides, don't you get lonely?"

"I've gotten used to it so it'd be better if you just left," Nico said. The news finished and with a tired sigh Paul got up and flipped the TV off. It was close to three in the morning as he turned and padded upstairs to join his girlfriend. 

"Ugh, I hope they don't have sex," Percy muttered, "I'd hate to accidentally pass through  _that_ wall."

"Their kid just died I think sleeping together is the last thing on their mind," Nico pulled a face and also stood up. He regarded Percy for a second, "Here, come with me, I'll show you something." 

They floated into the kitchen with nothing better to do and Nico patiently looked at the clock. He waited until it ticked one minute past three in the morning and then, ignoring Percy's confused look, went up to where the teacups were put upside down on a towel to dry. He picked one up, and it felt real in his hand. Percy gaped at him,

"How did you do that?" he asked breathlessly. 

"Three o'clock," Nico said fondly, "the only time we can  _actually_ do something. Here, try it."

Excitedly Percy took the cup from Nico and the Greek tried to ignore the way his skin tingled where their hands brushed together. Percy was laughing as he held the cup, as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world that he could finally touch something. 

"Alright, ease up," Nico was grinning and it felt alien on his face - something he hadn't done for a long time. He stretched his hand out for the mug, "Put it back before-" Percy went to offer Nico the cup but then accidentally dropped it. The mug shattered to pieces. For a moment the house was eerily silent, and then Paul came thundering downstairs.

"Shit," Percy swore, but he was still grinning. Nico bit his lip and then melted through the wall right as Paul came in, stumbling out into the night. The stars were all out. Percy popped up next to Nico, seemingly out of nowhere, eyes bright, "So...that was crazy."

Nico rolled his eyes but he couldn't keep from smiling, "I didn't have such a kick since...I can't remember."

"The way you talk...it's so weird," Percy was staring at Nico as if he was a puzzle, "I forget you're from the forties."

"Yeah, well," Nico shrugged, "some of the stuff you say is weird to me."

"Tell me about what it was like back then," Percy asked, leaning against the fence. 

"God, you're such a pain in the neck."

"Okay let's talk about the third stage of grief then, eh?" Percy offered. Nico exhaled,

"Okay."

"So it's anger and bargaining," Percy took on his 'professional' tone again, "What are you angry about?"

"Seriously?" Nico gave him a pointed look, "how about the fact that I'm  _stuck_ here."

"Right, what else?"

"What are  _you_ angry about?" Nico shot at him. Percy shrugged,

"You not co-operating. But that's more of a...mild annoyance," he stopped for a second, "I'm angry that you're so homophobic."

"Is this because of that boy you took to your room that once time?" Nico pulled a face. Percy blinked at him,

"I thought you respected my privacy!"

Nico flushed, heart twisting, "You kissed him in the  _kitchen!"_

"Okay are you angry about that?"

"Yes, I'm angry," Nico snapped, though he really wasn't, "I'm angry about a lot of stuff."

"I can tell - like what?"

"The fact that I'm a screw-up. God, why are we having this conversation?" Nico was getting agitated - he wanted Percy to just leave him alone and stop interrogating him, "I'm angry that I was born when I was. I'm angry about the way that I died."

"You killed yourself."

Nico kicked the tree, "Yeah, on this damn tree. Alone, with my mother drinking herself unconscious in that cursed house," Nico glared at 1120 Westerchester place, "and you got to die surrounded by family. You had an honourable death, you got to fight-"

Percy looked like he swallowed a lemon, "I had _cancer,_ Nico. I suffered for six years."

"At least you're not _stuck here!"_ Nico yelled at him. He didn't know where the anger came from but suddenly he was enveloped in rage, thinking about how fucking unfair everything was, "I was all alone for seventy years and now all I get is some damn teenager to keep me company and pester me! And what happens when you go, huh?! When we finish playing your damn game! When I'm done grieving for myself or whatever the fuck you're trying to make me do?! Then you walk through that gate, and I'm alone _again!_ "

"Nico," Percy said softly, and his eyes were full of pain. He tried to reach for Nico but the boy stumbled back,

"You forgot about me," he whispered, the pain building up in him. All of his regrets, and all the sadness he harboured for years was coming out, "just like everyone else did."

"I didn't mean to," Percy said desperately, "I was a kid-"

"So was I!" Nico snapped, and tears sprung in his eyes. His throat felt raw, "I was just a fucking kid, and now I'm being punished for what I did when I was a _kid-_ "

"Nico, listen to me-"

But Nico couldn't listen. The pain was too much, he felt like nothing made sense, like everything was crumbling around him. He was back in his house, back with his mother, with her screaming at him that it was all his fault,  _all of it._ He was sobbing and didn't know how to stop, and Percy was in front of him, gripping him by the shoulders, his touch searing Nico's nerves. 

"I'll be good, I promise," Nico sobbed, not even knowing what he was saying, "I'll never...I'll b-be so good, j-just let me l-leave, please, I-I just want to g-go, I c-can't-"

"Nico, please," Percy touched his cheek but Nico reeled back,

" _Don't touch me!"_ he screamed. 

Suddenly he was back in the spirit room, lying on his back, gasping for air. He didn't know how but somehow he had teleported back inside the house, and he was glad. The anger seeped out of him alongside all his energy when he realised he was alone. Nico had just enough strength to pull off his suspenders and shoes, and crawl beneath the blankets. He fell asleep with tears clumping his eyelashes together.

***

Percy was sitting at the foot of the bed when Nico groggily woke up. His eyes were warm. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Nico blinked. His body ached.

"I'm sorry too."

He sat up and sniffled. His heart felt heavy. 

"I thought...," his voice was hoarse, his mind was blank, "I thought that if I was good enough, if I was sorry enough, that maybe...maybe I'd get another chance."

"You're dead, Nico," Percy said softly, "We both are, and that won't change."

Nico sniffled again, "I don't want to be dead," he said, voice full of pain. He didn't protest when Percy shuffled towards him and pulled him into his arms. He was careful and gentle, holding Nico lightly and giving him the option to pull away. But Nico was finally getting used to Percy's presence, to his touch. The arms around him didn't feel like a cage. He liked the warmth so he leaned in a bit more, burying his face in Percy's shoulder. He smelled like apples and the sea. His touch was impossibly comforting.

Percy didn't say anything, just allowed Nico to reflect on his life, on all the good and the bad things. His fingers brushed through the boy's hair for an eternity, just holding him. Nico felt like a weight had shifted from his chest - he didn't feel like the world had done him wrong anymore. He felt safe and comforted and warm and  _sad._ Sad for all the things that could've been, for the life he could've had if things had been different. If he hadn't grown up in a war-zone. 

Nico wrapped his arms around Percy's torso and clung onto him. 

"Thank you," he whispered and pulled away. Percy's hands slid from his hair to his cheeks, cupping them gently. The boys warm blue eyes were intense, searching Nico's, and the Greek couldn't look away. It was as if his frozen body was thawing after years in an icy prison, he was starting to  _feel_ things again. Percy's eyes slid to Nico's mouth, and then he kissed him - Nico knew he would. His lips weren't hard or invading or forceful, they were tentative and shy and soft. 

Despite himself Nico couldn't force himself to pull away, and was surprised when he found himself kissing back, his arms sliding around Percy's neck to pull him closer. The kiss was a kind of validation for Nico; Percy wasn't going to abandon him, not again. The trickle of warmth in Nico's chest was confusing at first, and the boy couldn't place what it was exactly, and then he realised that it was happiness. He was happy for the first time since the white cliffs of Greece, a hundred lifetimes ago. 

*** 

Sally and Paul were sitting on the porch when Nico and Percy stepped out. They were drinking tea and watching the sun set over the neighbourhood, its last rays warming the street on which their son had grown up on. Percy kissed his mother's forehead, and she probably thought it was the breeze. Nico stood with his hands in the pockets of his suspenders, watching the house. Some part of him now knew that no matter what he thought, a part of him believed that this was his sanctuary, his safe place. He had blindly hung onto it in fear of what comes next.

"You ready?" Percy asked, coming to stand next to him. His face was warm, illuminated by the sun. Nico didn't give himself time to hesitate, and nodded. Percy took his hand, something Nico was grateful for, and turned to the gate, 

"Bye Paul," Percy said over his shoulder, as if he would be back in a few minutes, "Bye mom."

Instead of passing through the gate he pushed it open, and it creaked as it swung forward. Sally Jackson stood up and watched it with wide eyes, as if she knew. Percy stepped out onto the street, and began to dissolve. A sudden panic gripped Nico's chest - Percy was going.

"Come on," the boy said urgently, kindly, and Nico inhaled, stepping out after him. 

There was no invisible wall to stop him this time. He walked out onto the street and gasped. His body started to dissolve as well, his hand still in Percy's. For a second Nico felt alive - the sun was warm on his face, the breeze ruffled his hair. He turned to the house and swore that Sally Jackson was looking right at them, smiling.

"Bye," Nico whispered, still in disbelief, and then they were gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleaaaase leave a comment or a kudo or both if you're feeling extra nice xx


	3. Birmingham Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leo Valdez is a bootlegger in 1920's prohibitionist America. Frank Zhang is his supplier in Birmingham. The two gangsters are supposed to be all business and no feelings, especially since they seem to 'hate' each other. But after a raid gone wrong they're forced to go into hiding together and their true feelings see the light of day.  
> Inspired by; Boardwalk Empire & Peaky Blinders  
> Frank is based on Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders), Leo on Nucky Thompson (Boardwalk) and Ethan Nakamura a little on Richard Harrow (Boardwalk).  
> PS. Excuse my google-translated Spanish  
> PPS. Sorry about the OOC'ness

**BIRMINGHAM EMPIRE**

In the early 1900's, when Leo Valdez was just a child, it was his father who ran everything. Leo came from a family of Mexican immigrants who quickly made a name for themselves in Atlantic City through politics and other things that were much more illegal. Leo's father, Hephaestus, was known for his lavish lifestyle and numerous lovers, but what nobody knew back then was that there was a whole other side to him and his numerous family - the alcohol and cocaine side. Everybody in America wanted some of either or both at the time, and the Valdez family provided. But Leo didn't know that, not when he was a child; he grew up in a big house with all his cousins and siblings, blissfully unaware of his family's dirty dealings.

And then the war broke out, and Hephaestus had to go and fight. Leo was thirteen, too young, so he and his siblings stayed behind and hopelessly watched as the men of the family were murdered by the Germans somewhere in cold, cold France. By then Leo knew the truth - knew how everyone managed to pay for everything. But the women hadn't been part of the dirty work despite knowing the ins and outs of the business.

Hephaestus was one of the few who returned from the war, though he wasn't himself anymore - his eyes wild, always mumbling about the fighting...it drove him insane. He managed to teach his young son and the rest of that generation of the family about what their work really was - about the connections with Chicago, New York and Philadelphia, and even as far as Birmingham and Glasgow. By the age of sixteen Leo knew everything that his father had, and that was when the man decided the time had come for him to blow his brains out. 

So at that tender age, Leo inherited the 'family' business. Despite being the smallest and the least physically fit out of his siblings and cousins, he became the head of the operation, soon making a name for himself. People tended to underestimate him but Leo wasn't scared to hurt people, especially bad people. In 1920 a blessing came to him in the form of prohibition. Suddenly alcohol was the most illegal thing, and yet it was easy to get, thanks to Leo and the Valdez's in part. Thanks to the wealth built up in the family for generations Leo was able to keep up his links and connections, and continue to bring in alcohol and cocaine, distributing it all over America. By the age of eighteen he was filthy rich, and yet he took the most joy out of something other than money - he took it out of his visits to Birmingham. 

***

The first time Leo went to Birmingham it was with his father. He had been eleven then, but looked much younger than that. He vaguely remembered the ship journey, the unpredictable green sea and the salty air. His father told him that they were going to visit a distillery in England that was the manufacturer of their alcohol. Leo was excited. Birmingham was so much different than Atlantic City; full of identical, brick houses and grey skies and a ridiculous amount of rain. 

The Zhang family was as prosperous as the Valdez's, and yet there was something different about them. Where the Valdez's made sure to always look professional and clean, covering up their dirty dealings from the police, the Zhang's didn't care - they had the police in their pocket. There was an air of danger about them, these men in caps and long coats. They were all from China, immigrants just like Leo and his family, but they had the perfect Birmingham accents that intrigued Leo to no end. 

His father met and drank with them, and Leo was treated kindly, he remembered that. He was taken immediately by one of the youngest of the Zhang's, who was a few years older than him at the time - Frank. He was unlike the rest of the men of his family, who were broad and strong and scary looking. Frank was chubby and clumsy and shy, and yet he didn't seem to mind Leo's fire-cracker personality and even appreciated his jokes, something not many people did. 

But Leo quickly forgot about Frank as he returned to Atlantic City his life started to spin; the war, his father's death, the inheritance of the business, it all came first. But of course after fully accepting his bootlegging legacy Leo had no choice but to meet with his manufacturers in England, to work out deals and expenses and product and whatnot. So he went back to Birmingham at the age of sixteen, to see the Zhang family only to find that things have  _changed._

Similarly to the Valdez's, there had been an adjustment in leadership in Birmingham. The older, intimidating men that Leo remembered were gone, replaced by young men who fought in the war and fierce girls who wished they had. The leaders were Sherman Yang, a tall boy with a shadowed face, always carrying some kind of gun with him. His half-sister, a stocky brunette girl called Clarisse, was probably the scariest of the bunch. Ellis was the youngest, only seventeen, but he was just as feared as the others. They were all cousins to Frank Zhang who, to Leo's surprise, now ran the show. 

The awkward, plump boy Leo remembered was gone, and in his place was a fearless, intimidating leader. He had grown just like the men who were previously in charge, towering over Leo when they met again, his shoulder's broad and strong. His biceps were the size of Leo's thighs, his hands big enough that they could probably wrap around his waist completely. But no matter that Leo knew Frank could squash him like a bug he wasn't afraid of the man, more like intrigued.

"I was under the impression I was meeting with Hephaestus," were Frank's first words when Leo stepped off of his cargo ship the second time they met, his family filling in around him. His sister, Nyssa, came with him as she understood Leo with no words and was as fierce as any of the boys. With her hair tied back with a scarf and her eyes shooting lightning she looked ready for a fight any second. Beckendorf was Leo's half cousin, and he drew looks from the sailors not only because of how dark his skin was, but also because of how massive he was - tall and broad, towering over the rest of the gang like a small cliff. Harley was only sixteen, a cigarette in his mouth, Leo's precious younger brother. The air was full of salt and rain and Leo couldn't help but grin as he and his family came to face the Zhang's.

"Apologies," he said, eyeing Frank's dark, brooding eyes, "Haven't you heard? My father is no longer with us, _b_ _endice su alma_ ,"  _bless his soul,_ "But do not fret - I am here to continue business as usual."

Frank eyed him sceptically, "I will no conduct business with a  _child."_

"I'm sixteen thank-you very much," Leo couldn't help but get irked at the comment, he was a  _man!_ "And you do business with me or with nobody and you can take your affairs to Chicago and try work shit out with the Italians."

"What - are you the best Atlantic City can give us?" Clarisse let out a snarky laugh. Nyssa stepped forward, eyes narrowed,

"Take it or leave it,  _perra."_

"What did you just call me?!" Clarisse hissed, and in a second she had a knife in her hand. Leo's instincts kicked in, his blood rushing to his head. He reached behind his belt and pulled out a gun. Suddenly the 'peaceful' encounter turned into an arms race. The Zhang's stood in a line, their guns trained on the Valdez's, while the Valdez's trained their own weapons on them. Leo couldn't help but grin as other people scuttled off the deck to peer at the showdown from the safety of the surrounding pubs,

"Exciting, isn't it?" the Latino asked, eyes locked with Zhang's dark, mysterious. He was surprised at how intense they were, and how hard to read. Leo was good at reading people but Frank gave away nothing,

"Back off," the man seethed, his accent lacing his words in a way that sent a shiver down Leo's spine. His grin widened and eyes narrowed,

"Only if you do."

Slowly, Frank lowered his gun but he didn't make it look like a defeat. It was clear that he was prepared to use it if he had to, "We're here to do business, not end an alliance that our father's so gratuitously created."

"Right," Leo motioned at  Harley and Beckendorf and they lowered their weapons too. The air was tense, "Let's do business then, Mr Zhang."

It was the start of something. 

***

The blood  _drip, drip, dripped_ onto the expensive carpet of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, but Leo didn't care. Housekeeping would clean it up later - Leo had bigger issues to worry about than some stains. Beckendorf and another member of Leo's gang, Jake, were holding a man in an expensive suit up by the arms as his head lolled onto his chest. His nose was spurting blood down his swollen, bruised face. Leo wrapped up his cracked knuckles from where he was perched on the desk with some bandages,

"So, the next time you decide to rat us out to the prohies," he said casually, as if talking to a friend, "Just remember that whatever they do to you, we'll do worse," the nineteen year old jumped off of the desk and gripped the man by the chin so he could look at him. Despite how innocent and short Leo looked, the man had fear in his eyes when they met the boy's, "So keep your tongue behind your teeth, or soon you won't have a tongue, understood  _amigo?"_

"Y-Yes...," the man spluttered, blood bubbling at his mouth and through the gaps where his teeth used to be, "I'm s-sorry."

Leo rolled his eyes and stepped back, "Get him out of here," he said, and Beck and Jake dragged the man out by the blazer, the door closing behind them. Leo exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. His knuckles throbbed where he split the skin punching the man. He didn't like to do it, he preferred threats, but you couldn't be the most famous bootlegger and not hurt and even kill some people. Leo had grown quite impassive to it. It was a job that had to be done.

"Leo?" Nyssa slipped into the room, shutting the door behind here, "You got a minute?"

"For you always  _hermana,"_ Leo smiled past his tiredness. The girl came up to him and took his hands in hers, tutting in disapproval when she saw his messy bandages.

" _I wish you'd get someone else to do it,"_ she told him in Spanish, eyes full of worry.

 _"I'm just as strong as anyone else,"_ Leo replied in annoyance, pulling his hands out of her grip,  _"I can't have others do the dirty work for me."_

 _"You know that's not what I meant. Your my little brother, I just want to keep you safe,"_ Nyssa said gently, "We've got more pressing issues though," she switched back into English, with just a trace of an accent, "The cops raided one of the warehouses in Ocean City this afternoon."

Fear spiked in Leo, though he'd never let it show, "Did they find anything?"

"No," Nyssa shook her head, "Shane was there, the warehouse was emptied that morning, before the prohies showed up."

 _"Gracias a Dios,"_ Leo exhaled.  _Thank God._

"You know the ship that was meant to bring in supplies two days ago but never showed up?"

"Yes," Leo's eyes narrowed, "Those bastards bootlegged our bootleg didn't they?"

"That doesn't even make sense," Nyssa snorted, "But no, their ship was caught in a storm, it pulled into the docks today. It's all in pieces, half of the alcohol's gone."

"Goddammit," Leo swore.

"It wasn't their fault," Nyssa bit the inside of her cheek, "but we're gonna have to restock. The Zhang's are willing to trade, but Frank Zhang wants you there in person, apparently last time he didn't get along with the guy that went."

"Who went?"

"Christopher."

"That fucking idiot."

No matter how casual he acted Leo couldn't help the spark of excitement that went through him. He hadn't been down in Birmingham in four months and he was itching to return. He tried to pretend it was for the thrill of clashing with another gang that could match his, but he knew the real reason. It was because of Frank. 

"Right," he tried to sound relaxed but his blood was boiling, "I'll go. In a week. You, Beckendorf and Harley come too. Get Jake and the boys as well, for the manpower."

"Right," there was a spark in Nyssa's eye, "I'll find us a boat."

***

Leo felt as exhilarated as a child when the grey city emerged from the grey sea. He was officially done with ships; days of staring at the steely sky and equally steely waves made him yearn for solid ground. Even though Bristol didn't look promising; just grey smoke rising over an equally grey city, Leo's heart pounded. There was a car waiting for them when they pulled into the dock, and men running around, shouting at each other in various English, Irish and Welsh accents. 

Leo, Nyssa, Beck and Harley packed into a Rolls Royce with a chauffeur together, which had been sent by the Zhang's, and for the hours to come, as night fell around them during their journey to Birmingham, Leo was unable to think of anything other than Frank. Did he change much in the the four months they hadn't seen each other? Was he alright, maybe he was ill? What would happen if by any chance he was dead? What if he got engaged? What if he got _married?_

"Why are you worrying so much?" Harley looked away from the window to frown at his cousin, "Does it have something to do with the Frank punk?"

"Oi," Nyssa hit him upside the head, "Have some respect,  _idiota!"_

Harley sulked and Leo flushed, "I'm not worrying," he lied, and delved into his pocket. He pulled out a few pieces of metal wiring that he always had with him to have something to focus on, and he started twisting them together into intricate shapes as the car bumped and jolted on the road. Around them night fell, clouding the English towns they passed through. When Leo got bored of his wires he stuck his face to the window and looked up at the skies. That was one thing that always awed him; the night sky in England. Atlantic City and Chicago and New York, they had too many clubs, too many lights, and it was almost impossible to see any stars. England had a lot of smoke but on clear nights the sky was open, like a museum exhibit, endless and beautiful.

The Zhang's lived in a three storey house but the ground floor was a bar. Even now, despite the late hour, as they pulled into the driveway Leo could see lights spilling from the downstairs, mixing with the laughter of men and women. Leo knew the bar wasn't just that; it was a place for gambling and alcohol and narcotics. It seemed abstract to him that in England people were so open with drinking while in America they had to sneak about and avoid the prohibition officers. 

"Mr Valdez," a man hurried to Leo - Frank's butler - when the boy stepped out of the car. He inhaled - even the air smelled different. The butler bowed hurriedly to the family, "Mr Zhang had some...urgent business to attend to," the man looked terrified, "he invites you to stay in his home, he prepared rooms, he...," the man swallowed, "he will speak with you in the morning, with some breakfast-"

"Yeah, yeah," Leo brushed past the man, his heart clenching. He tried not to be bitterly disappointed at the fact that Frank wasn't there to see him, "We'll take the rooms."

"Thank you," Beckendorf told the butler, giving his family the evil eye for not being polite. But Leo didn't have the strength to be polite as the energy went out of him. The butler led them around the back of the house, to avoid the pub, and up the stairs. He left Beck and Harley on the second floor, in a room they had to share, and then led Nyssa and Leo up to the third floor where they each got a separate room. Leo's was spacious and clean and fancy. Despite everything the Zhang's were rich, and that was reflected in the home. But Leo couldn't even appreciate that as he continued to sulk, shoving his shoes off. The gas lamps were dim, filling the room with a dusky glow. Leo went to the window and threw it open. He could see Birmingham stretching in front of him, a mixture of mansions, hugged by factories. The stars winked at him as the Latino pulled out his tobacco. Slowly, methodically, he rolled himself a cigarette and lit it with a match. He smoked ad stared out of the window and brooded.

"Can't you do that outside?" an exasperated voice startled Leo out of his thoughts. He whirled around and saw Frank casually shutting the door behind him. For a second Leo was frozen, unable to breathe, just staring at Frank. The man had let his hair grow out some, but it was pushed back, away from his face. His eyes were dark and unreadable as ever, a shadow of a smile on his lips. There was a cut on his chin and a bandage around his wrist but apart from that he was just the way Leo remembered him from four months ago.

"You  _asshole,"_ the Latino snapped, jumping off of the windowsill and stubbing out his cigarette. He glared at Frank, "We were gonna talk business and you don't have  _time_ for us? Christ, I spent weeks on a damn boat for this, and you don't even-"

"Valdez," Frank interrupted, undoing his tie, "Shut up."

He let the tie fall to the floor and walked up to the Latino. Before Leo could react he wrapped his arms around the boys waist and hoisted him up. 

"Fuck off," Leo grumbled, but his legs wrapped around Frank on their own accord as the man pressed him against the wall, mouth already on Leo's neck, kissing and biting fiercely, "You better not l-leave any marks," Leo's voice trembled as the sudden heat that filled his body. Frank ignored him and started undoing Leo's buttons, using his hips to keep him up against the wall. 

The first time they had sex was when Leo had been sixteen and Frank was eighteen, almost three years ago. They had been alone in the bar, late into the night, drinking and arguing over whether to bring the alcohol in from a new brewery in North Ireland or keep getting it from Wales. Things got heated; both Frank and Leo started shouting at each other, coming closer and closer as if threatening to hit one another. And suddenly they were tackling each other to the floor, rolling around and ripping at each others clothes, trying to get in a punch. And then they weren't trying to do that anymore; they were on the floor, breathless and flushed and  _hard,_ and one thing led to another and Frank fucked Leo on that floor.

Since then every time Leo came over the same thing happened, almost like they were addicted to each other. Of course neither of the two would ever consider themselves 'lovers,' more like...convenient sleeping partners. Leo still has sex with people in Atlantic City and Frank with people in Birmingham, but when they got together...well, they  _really_ got together. It was hate sex more than anything, Leo and Frank could never quite see eye to eye, and not only because of the height difference. The sex was a way for them to not kill each other. It had a few rules though - nobody could know about them, they could never kiss (Frank said that was too much like "love-making") and they weren't exclusive. Ever. 

"There's a bed right there," Leo murmured as Frank nipped down his chest, hands undoing Leo's belt.

"I am  _not_ fucking you on the bed, Valdez," Frank growled against his chest and Leo couldn't remember when remarks like that started to hurt. But he wasn't about to complain, not when Frank was  _finally_ holding him, after months of being apart. Leo didn't want to think about how touch starved he was as Frank thrust into him mere minutes later, didn't want to think about the fact that he hadn't slept with anyone in four months because Frank was the only person he desired anymore.

Their encounter was the same as dozens before; fast, hard, with a slight desperate edge to it, leaving Leo wanting more afterwards. But there was no 'afterwards.' When both of them climaxed, Frank slipped out of Leo, lowered him to the ground and got dressed.

"We'll talk about business tomorrow," he told him, buckling up his belt and not even looking at the Latino. And then he left without another word. There were no sweet words or kisses or caresses; it was pure animalistic sex, and Leo knew not to hope it could ever be more.

 _"E_ _stúpido_ ," he muttered after Frank left, trying to ignore the pain in his chest as he picked up his clothes. _Asshole._

***

"Look," Leo was getting impatient, "you can't just raise the price like that. Last time-"

"Times change," Clarisse interrupted. Leo and his people were sitting on one side of the table, closed for the day, and the Zhang's sat opposite them, eyeing them with eyes full of mistrust. There was an edge to the air, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Leo was trying to keep his annoyance at bay but it was hard, especially with Frank sitting opposite him, looking neutral, as if he hadn't fucked Leo raw not even twenty four hours before. 

"We are not paying an extra grand for the delivery,  _comprendido_?" Leo growled. 

"Listen, Valdez," Sherman eyed him coolly, "Last month two of ours were arrested and another one killed up in Atlantic City. We have to pay the families for the funerals-"

"It's a dangerous job-" Nyssa snapped.

"You don't see your people randomly disappearing-"

"It's the fucking prohies, they stick their noses-"

The two sides started to argue heatedly. Leo bit the inside of his cheek and refrained from joining in, his anger boiling just beneath the surface of his skin. Of course he could agree to the terms - a grand wasn't that much money, not for  _him._ But that would mean allowing the Zhang's come out on top, and Leo was already submissive enough towards him in their private moments, he didn't have to be so in business either.

"No deal." He snapped, halting the argument. Clarisse's eyes narrowed.

"Fine," it was Frank who spoke, "we will find someone else to trade with. Or nobody at all. We don't need dealings with America."

"Have fun selling your cocaine then," Leo snorted, "everyone knows heroin is the next big thing."

"That's balloney!" Clarisse snapped, "snow's selling fine."

"What do you mean?" Frank ignored his cousin, his eyes narrowed and Leo knew he had him.

"We're importing from the East - opium, the purest form," he leaned back and grinned, "soon cocaine will be as useless as dust. But alcohol...alcohol is timeless. In a hundred years people will still be drinking it."

Frank was silent for a moment, considering his options. His people looked at him expectantly, and eventually he spoke.

"I'll go to America and make sure there is no misconduct with our goods," he said, and Leo hated how his heart started pounding at the idea of Frank coming back with him, "I'll make sure these murders and arrests were accidental, and won't happen again."

"Of course," Leo agreed, forcing his voice to not shake, "It will be my pleasure to host you at the Ritz-Carlton."

Frank inclined his head in cold courtesy, "Clarisse, you'll be coming with me."

"What about us?" Ellis, the youngest, blurted. Frank didn't look at him,

"We'll talk about that later. For now," his eyes landed on Leo again, as dark and impenetrable as ever, "let's talk about this opium business."

***

If Leo thought that he and Frank would be able to spend some 'time' together on the ship back to Atlantic City, he was wrong. Clarisse didn't take a step away from her cousin, and every time Leo even came near she gave him the evil eye. It was unnerving and annoying but Leo was determined to get on with business and not blow their cover. He conversed with Nyssa, Beck and Harley about the plans for when they returned. He had dinner parties to attend to, people to meet, booze to sell. Besides a few people were acting up, a few people were showing promise, a few corrupted prohies were telling him about raids planned on his warehouses. It was all intoxicating to Leo - the whirlwind of life. He saw the other boys his age on the streets, scrambling to sell newspapers to have enough to buy themselves a meal. Leo couldn't do that; lead a grey life. He needed the excitement and danger that the gangster path held for him.

Returning to Atlantic City was a surprising relief. The few days in Birmingham had been drab and grey, filled with gambling and threatening people. The coast of Atlantic City was bright and beautiful, the golden sand meeting the calm waves. Children were playing on the beaches, people parading on the boardwalk. Leo felt pride when he saw his city; towering and beautiful. 

Although he had his own house Leo spent the majority of his time at the Ritz-Carlton. He had his own suite there and it was easier to have meetings and host parties at that venue compared to his house. Besides, Leo liked the splendour of it, he liked the fact he could walk into any party and be welcomed with open arms. He couldn't enjoy it around Frank though, because all his thoughts were on the man, ages spent trying to figure him out. And in the end Leo never could. 

His room at the Ritz was a welcome sight after the long travel. Leo collapsed on the queen sized bed the second he got in and groaned against the luxuriously soft pillows. His suit felt crumpled and dirty and Leo eagerly stripped. In the shower he tried to keep himself together but his thoughts kept straying to Frank. He was so infuriating, and Leo was absolutely captivated by him - the way he moved, the way he talked, the way everything changed when he was alone with Leo. 

"Christ," Leo swore as the hot water beat down on his body. His hand itched to wrap around his rapidly growing erection which came from remembering the nights he had with Frank before they departed from Birmingham, "I need to get myself together."

With a determination Leo stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, swearing to himself that he'd bring someone back to his room that night and have sex with them and forget all about the weird feelings he was having for Frank. Waiting for him in the lounge was Nyssa, a welcome distraction. She had changed into a white shirt and a dark skirt that made her look like an angel, her unruly hair tied back with a head scarf.

" _Hermana_ ," Leo nodded at him as he went to the wardrobe.

"You've gotten an invitation, Leo," Nyssa leaned against the doorway, "to a party, tonight."

"Tonight?" Leo cocked an eyebrow as he looked through his shirts, "Bit of a short notice, eh?"

"It's from Torrington. He didn't know you was back."

"Ah, Torrington," the man was a bootlegger from Philadelphia and he had a friendly, albeit strained, relationship with the Valdez gang, "What kind of party is it?"

Nyssa shrugged, "The usual. Drinking, dancing. There's gonna be a jazz band and girls there too."

"Swell," Leo's hand clenched on a shirt he was holding, "Tell him I'll be there."

"Swell."

"And he better not have that God awful  _mierda_ to drink again," Leo pulled a face. 

"Nakamura will be there," Nyssa offered, "he wants to speak with you about the opium situation."

Leo sighed, "Christ. Alright."

Nyssa was silent for a moment, watching Leo ruffle through his clothes. Then she came and gently nudged him to the side, pulling out a white shirt and a black tie,

"You should get yourself a butler, Leo."

Leo rolled his eyes and took the clothes from her, "I can dress myself,  _hermana."_

" _I know you can,"_ Nyssa slid easily into Spanish, " _Leo, are you alright?"_

 _"Why wouldn't I be?"_ Leo blinked at her. She shrugged,

" _There's something going on with you. Is this because of Zhang?"_

Leo tensed, "No. Everything's copacetic. Fine. Brilliant, really," he said, tone clipped. Nyssa put a comforting hand on his shoulder,

 _"I'm asking as your sister,"_ she said insistently, " _not as a business partner. You mix the two too much, brother."_

Leo sighed, " _I'm scared...of my own feelings,"_ he felt stupid saying it but he had to tell it to someone or he might explode. Being on the ship with Frank was hard enough - Leo knew he couldn't hide his feelings from his family for much longer. It was hard keeping it from himself too. Nyssa opened her mouth to say something but Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Let's not talk about that now, eh  _hermana?_ Wear something nice, we're going to party tonight."

***

The music was wonderful. _If all else failes at least America had decent music_ \- Hephaestus always said that. Before he lost his mind, that is. Leo couldn't agree with him more as he and Nyssa swept into the ballroom of the Ritz, arm in arm. She wore a beautiful red dress that put all the flappers to shame, and despite his slightness, Leo's presence seemed to fill the room. Upon entering people raised their glasses to him, the men bowing the women smiling, their pearly whites on show. The room was full of bright and colourful people, some of them swirling on the dance-floor in a wild bubble of giddy laughter and sashes swirling. The jazz band was thrumming away soulfully up on a little stage, caressing their instruments as if they were the bodies of lovers. 

Nyssa disappeared for a moment and Leo indulged the county treasurer in a conversation. The man was short and red-faced from drink, but his date was beautiful and lithe and sent Leo flirty grins. Despite his earlier promise to himself that he'd sleep with someone tonight Leo couldn't bring himself to take ladies that were clearly already taken. Nyssa saved him from the droning conversation of the treasurer when she popped up at his elbow, as wild and stormy as always despite her makeup and pretty dress. In her hands she held two whiskeys,

"Attagirl," Leo grinned and took his drink from her. He turned to the treasurer, eager to appease him, "Gentleman, my dear lady," he offered his date a smile, "May I offer this toast to the one thing that keeps us all sane and going-"

"And money in our purses," the treasurer cackled to himself. Leo's mouth twitched into a grin and he raised his glass,

"To prohibition," he said. To his surprise a dozen people around him also raised their glasses and echoed his toast, before drinking and laughing loudly. Leo couldn't help but relax. These were the kind of people he loved - untamed and unapologetic. He was part of the colourful, wild prohibition life, he didn't belong in the grey, drab reality of Frank's world.  _I don't belong with Frank,_ the thought was upsetting. 

" _Oiga!_ " Nyssa waved her hand in front of Leo's face, startling him out of his thoughts, "what's with your today?"

"I'm just balled up about stuff," Leo shrugged her off, and then offered her a grin, "beat it, bearcat, enjoy the party."

Leo forgot about Frank for a few hours. He was swept onto the dance-floor and swirled to the music with numerous laughing, pretty girls, though he didn't find any that he wanted to wake up in the morning with. He drank, he smiled, he conversed. Then he caught sight of the man he was meant to meet and he remembered that  _everything_ was business.

"Mr Torrington," Leo inclined his head as he came to stand next to the man in the corner. Alabaster C Torrington was a tall, handsome man but it was his companion that really drew the eye. Ethan Nakamura's dark hair was gelled back, his one dark eyes stormy and angry, as always. His other eye had been shot out during the war and he wore a porcelain mask over the left side of his face to hide the gaping hole it left behind. Although he was wearing an expensive, tailored suit it was clear that he had not been born into the high-life. He was rough around the edges, and that reminded Leo weirdly of Frank, "Mr Nakamura. It's good to see you."

"One of our men was arrested yesterday," Torrington said, casually enough, but with a dark glint in his eye. His English accent was strong. 

"It's the damn prohies," Leo exhaled, "they're multiplying like roaches in the carpet, and opium is their new favourite thing to chase down."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Nakamura snapped, his eyes glaring at Leo, "they're pinching people off the streets and hauling them to jail-"

"I'm working on it, alright?" Leo said through his teeth. He could feel a headache coming on, but that's what you got for having a colourful life.

"Word on the street it that they'll come to the Ritz next," Ethan snorted.

"Bullshit," Leo finished his drink, "They wouldn't get through the door."

"The fact of the matter is," Torrington interjected, "that the police are getting out of hand. Even Chicago is safer nowadays compared to Atlantic City, and that's saying something - they've got the di Angelo's after-all."

"Christ, you're always such a wet blanket, Torrington," Leo rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out his tobacco, "I said I'm working on it. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen."

Leo pushed through the crowd, saying his goodbye's and his hello's. He caught Nyssa's worried look across the room but he just shook his head at her as he slipped up the stairs, undetected. After the heat and chaos of the party the hallways seemed devastatingly empty and as Leo climbed up to his suite he couldn't decide if he wanted peace and quiet or someone's company. Stupidly, he was angry at himself for not bringing back a girl, or a boy. Now he'd spend another cold, lonely night on his too-big bed. 

Leo was startled when he found that his room wasn't as empty as he expected. Frank was perched in the armchair in the lounge, which the main door opened to. He was smoking a cigarette, looking lost in thought until the Latino came in.

"Valdez," Frank said, in place of a hello, "I didn't think you'd be back so late."

He was dishevelled, but in the best way. He was in an open shirt, no tie, his trousers loose on his hips. He was sprawled out lazy as a cat but there was a tension in his shoulders, like he was ready for anything. Leo couldn't stand to look at him. 

"I'm not in the mood tonight, Zhang," he said coldly. He tiredly started to undo his tie, his head thrumming with the alcohol he had. He heard Frank snort,

"You're  _always_ in the mood, Valdez."

"Well, not today," Leo had to stop himself from snapping as he trudged to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. Frank stubbed out his cigarette and followed him, 

"What's eating you?" Leo couldn't tell if he was worried.

"Why do you care?" he was just in his undergarments now, and he pulled back the blankets, "all you need to know is that I'm not in the mood."

"Did something happen, Valdez?" 

"Mind your own beeswax," now Leo  _did_ snap. He slid into Spanish, something he knew would irritate Frank, " _The only reason I'd appreciate you staying is if you want to get under the blankets with me and kiss me and hold me and go to fucking sleep, which of course you don't because all you want is to fuck me, well tough shit life's already done that my friend, so just get the fuck out and stop messing me up."_

Frank stared at him for a moment, face unreadable, and then, "Goodnight Valdez," he turned on his heel and left the room, just like that. Leo didn't even have the strength to groan in frustration as he climbed into bed, determined to forget everything; Frank and Torrington and the prohies and the opium, and even the liquor. 

***

Leo avoided the Zhang's as much as he could, and it wasn't hard. Frank and Clarisse were doing their own investigation regarding the men they lost and Leo...well, he and the rest of the Valdez gang just got on with their lives. There were always people to threaten, parties to attend to and alcohol to sell. Leo's days were filled with intimidating prohibition officer's into giving him inside information about raids. They were onto him, very clearly, and they knew were his warehouses were. But Leo was always one step ahead, clearing out the storage's hours before the officers appeared with a search warrant. Of course Leo was asked to come in and testify but he wasn't legally obliged to so he decided to avoid the station as much as he could, instead decided to amuse himself by attempting to pacify Torrington and Nakamura who were continuously bugging him about their men who were being arrested. Leo couldn't help it if the idiots got caught, he wasn't a babysitter.

Frank came a few times, in the evenings, but Leo couldn't bring himself to sleep with him. Something inside him shifted on its own accord and he knew that if he let Frank touch him again everything would come pouring out and then everything would be ruined. So Leo focused on not slipping up and keeping away from Frank and his questions, but he wasn't perfect, and one day Frank finally caught him.

"Valdez," Frank was standing by the door to the Ritz just as Leo was leaving, "You've been avoiding me."

"Sorry, bee's knees, I'm a busy man," the Latino brushed him off and stepped out into the sun-filled street. To his dismay Frank followed him,

"We need to talk about the opium. Nakamura told me-"

"Good idea," Leo stopped abruptly, "Go talk to Nakamura about it, I'm sure he knows more about it than me," he fought an eye roll and went to carry on walking to where his car was waiting for him. Frank grabbed him by the arm,

"What's with you?" he asked, "I haven't seen you for days."

"I'm going to one of my warehouses, so let me go and let me conduct my business," Leo shrugged his hand off, "I'll talk to you later."

But Leo wasn't having any of it. When his chauffeur opened the car door for him, Frank slid in after him.

"What the  _fuck_ Zhang?" Leo's annoyance spiked.

"I'm coming with you," Frank said simply, "Nothing else for me to do since you won't even talk to me about business."

The car started and Leo pointedly didn't look at the man next to him, "You could've talked to Beckendorf or Nyssa about the opium."

" _I'm_ the leader, and  _you're_ the leader, and I won't talk to your minions."

"They're my family," Leo snapped, glaring heatedly at Frank. As always the man betrayed no emotion, and that just irritated Leo more. Frank's hand came to rest on Leo's thigh,

"You haven't let me touch you in ages," he said quietly and he sounded kind of hurt, but Leo told himself it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Frank didn't care about him. The boy knocked his hand off,

"Why don't you go to one of your other birds, eh?" he didn't mean to sound bitter but he did. Frank studied him,

"Are you jealous?"

Leo almost chocked on his own spit, "What?!" he demanded, "No! W-What..."

"You're acting like you are," Frank sounded smug, "what, you carrying a torch for me or something? Is that it? You have a crush on me or something-"

"Listen, big cheese," Leo was trying to keep his anger at bay while at the same time attempting not to blush, "you sit there and be quiet or you can board the next ship back to Birmingham tonight."

Frank went with option number one. They sat in a tense silence as the car rumbled through the streets of Atlantic City. Leo  _tried_ not to brood, but it wasn't his fault that Frank always found a way to get under his skin. To distract himself, the man pulled out the pieces of wire out of his pocket and started to twist them together. They rolled out of the city and disappeared among the trees in the forest, weaving in and out of rough the woodland road until they reached a clearing. 

The warehouse was ugly and stark and grey and reminded Leo more of Birmingham than Atlantic City. It was surrounded from all sides by trees, but there were several cars parked outside. Leo glimpsed a face duck out of a window when he stepped out of his car and then a young boy was running out onto the courtyard to meet him. 

"Mr Valdez!" the boy bowed hurriedly, "Mr Mason's inside, but-"

Leo pushed past him. Jake Mason really was waiting inside, clearly on edge. His arm was bandaged from a fight he got into in Chicago (fucking Italians), and his cap was drawn low onto his forehead, casting a shadow over his eyes.

"Leo," he exhaled when he saw the man enter, followed by Frank. The man eyed the English-man and then slid into uneasy Spanish, " _What's he doing here?"_

 _"Don't question my decisions, Jake,"_ Leo crossed his arms over his chest, " _What's the problem? Why haven't you moved the alcohol?"_

Jake frowned, " _Moved it?_ I didn't know I had to move it boss."

"What do you mean?" Leo snapped. Frank looked between the two, eyes unreadable, "I sent Harley and his guys to tell you and get the booze. There's a police raid scheduled here, fuck," Leo swore, "don't tell me he didn't get here?"

Fear sparkled in Jake's eyes, "Shit, I don't know from nothing - he didn't get here boss. None of them did, I didn't know-"

"Right, we'll deal with that later," Leo could see the other men in the back rooms, looking at the exchanged uneasily, "get the boys, get the bootleg out. We need to clear the warehouse," Jake wasn't reacting, "Jake.  _Movimiento."_

The man snapped into action. Leo slipped away from Frank, glad for a distraction and in minutes some of the men from his gang were bringing lorries around, loading the booze into it in carts. Leo was antsy, afraid that they wouldn't be able to clear out in time. But more than that he was deathly worried about Harley - his little brother, who could be dead, late or arrested. 

"Is everything alright?" Frank appeared out of nowhere.

"Why do you keep asking that?" Leo asked in annoyance. He was standing to the side, smoking a cigarette and trying to calm the fuck down. The lorries were leaving and coming but there was too much alcohol and not enough men, not enough time. Frank didn't have time to reply because just then a car swerved into the driveway and a man spilled out of it hectically.

"Boss," Christopher stumbled to Leo, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He was one of Harley's friends, and he was meant to be with him, that much Leo knew, "It's Harley - he's been arrested."

"What?" Leo demanded, fear curling in his chest, "Where? Why?  _How?"_

Christopher shook his head frantically, "They knew the route, the prohies. They stopped the convoy and they arrested Harley, I barely managed to get away-"

"Where is he?" Leo asked, but Christopher didn't know, " _maldito,"_ he swore again, "I'll sort it out, go help with the loading, we need to get the booze out of here-"

"Boss!" the chaos increased as Jake came running into the courtyard, eyes wide, "It's the cops! They're coming now!"

"Fuck," Frank swore.

"Everyone go!" Leo could hear the screech of engines close by, and he was terrified, "Go! Go! Leave the booze!"

The men hesitated but they decided that their lives were more important than a few crates of alcohol. They packed themselves into their cars and Leo tried to breathe properly. He couldn't hear anything, he just saw the crates on the ground. It was over - this was his warehouse, the police would have evidence against him now. It'd take a lot for Leo to weasel his way out of this one.

Frank's hand on his wrist snapped him out of his dreary thoughts.

"Leo we need to go," there was an urgency in his tone, and he tugged the startled Latino forward. They stumbled into the closest car and the next thing Leo knew was that they were speeding through the forest.  _Get yourself together,_ he scolded himself,  _you're the boss of a gang, you're not going to panic over this._ He forced his breathing to even out, hands clenched on the gun he didn't remember taking out. Frank drove fiercely but there was nobody following them, thank God.

"Don't go to the Ritz," he told the man, finally thinking straight, "They'll look there first."

"Well where the fuck do you want me to go?" it was the first time Leo saw Frank truly angry. Not  _just_ angry - he was worried and scared too. He hid it well but his mask was starting to slip, "Clarisse is there, all my things-"

" _I_ can't go back," Leo growled, "you can do whatever you damn well please."

Frank was silent for a moment, hands clenched on the steering wheel, "Where do you want me to take you?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, you're my chauffeur now? Great. I'll direct you, I have a safe-house just outside Atlantic City," Leo leaned back in the seat and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"And then what?" Frank asked.

"And then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

***

 _"This_ is your safehouse?" Frank asked, shocked. He stared at the shack open mouthed - it was more a bungalow really, made of wood on all sides, with a chimney sticking out at the top. It looked out of place, like something out of an obscure fairytale. They had driven for over an hour and it was getting dark now. Leo knew that his safehouse in Neptune City wasn't anything fancy but that was good - that meant that nobody would think to look for him there. Only his closest family knew about this place, and so he expected to see Nyssa or Beck sometime in the upcoming days, so they could fill him in on what was happening. 

"Sorry it's not a mansion," the Latino grumbled as he trudged up the few creaky steps leading to the front door, "You can go now. Thanks for the ride."

Leo went inside and turned on the light. He had only been in the hut once previously and that had been a brief visit to see if it was appropriate for a safehouse. There were floral curtains in the windows which were new and were probably the work of Beckendorf. There was a rusty fireplace, which was nice, and a stove. A creaky armchair sat in one corner of the small room and one door led off to the bedroom while the other took Leo to the bathroom, which was cramped and tiny. The bedroom was a bit bigger than the kitchen, with a bed with a slightly musty blanket set on-top of it. The worst thing was that there was no running water or electricity.

Leo swore to himself under his breath as he used his precious cigarette matches to light the naphtha lamps, shedding a golden glow on the rooms. He set off to lighting the fireplace when Frank spoke,

"It's actually quite cosy."

Leo sighed as the flames started to shyly peek out from between the old wood in the fireplace, " _Why_ are you still here?"

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you alone," Frank informed him as he kicked the door closed. Leo gaped at him,

" _Que?"_

Frank crossed his arms over his chest, "Yeah, you go into 'hiding' and I never see you again. You owe me for the last batch of liquor, I'm not letting you off the hook."

"So you're gonna stay with me until God knows when?" Leo asked sceptically. Frank shrugged, "Where are you gonna sleep, genius?"

"Armchair," Frank said casually, slipping off his suit jacket, "or floor. It doesn't matter."

Leo shook his head, "Christ you're insane."

"Tell me something I don't know," Frank shrugged off his shoes, "Please tell me you have some food in this place? I'm famished."

"I have something better," Leo's spirits raised. He couldn't believe that Frank was voluntarily spending time with him, but he decided to make the most of it while he could. He went over to the round, fluffy carpet beneath the armchair and peeled it back to reveal a small trapdoor in the floor. He was grinning as he opened it and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Bingo."

"You have  _alcohol?"_ Frank asked in disbelief, "and you say I'm insane."

Leo shrugged and stood up, "Hey, I'm an illegal bootlegger, I  _always_ have giggle water."

"Don't tell that to the cops when they arrest you."

"The whole point of me being in this shack is so they  _don't_ arrest me, keep up Zhang," Leo went over to the bedroom, "Pour the drinks, I need to change out of this damn suit!" he called as he went into the other room and started to strip, not even bothering to close the door. He heard glasses clanking around as Frank prepared the alcohol and thought about how weird it was that out of all the people he'd get stuck with hiding from the prohies it'd be Frank. Fate really was weird. 

Leo shoved his suit to the back of the closet that smelled like moles and pulled out the spare clothes that Beckendorf had stashed there. The man wrinkled his nose at the too-big shirts his cousin prepared clearly for himself and not for Leo's much smaller figure. Eventually the boy managed to find a pair of pants and a button-up flannel shirt which sot of fit and made him feel like a real lumberjack. With his tanned skin and wild curly hair you'd never think he was the leader of the most powerful gang in town. 

Frank was lounging in the armchair when Leo came back in the room. He ditched his tie and undid the few top buttons on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up. He didn't look much like a gangster either. There was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes when he saw Leo, sipping on his drink thoughtfully.

"Look at you all dolled up for me," he teased. Leo rolled his eyes and turned away to hide the colour that had come to his cheeks. He took his drink,

"The prohies knew about Harley. Someone double crossed me," he said quietly, the liquor burning down his throat, "Heads are gonna roll."

"Any idea who it could've been?" Frank asked.

"Not you I hope," Leo sent him a warning look, "Because I know where the guns are in this shack, and you don't."

Frank shook his head, "I'm offended you'd even think to accuse me, I thought we were friends."

" _Friends?"_ Leo snorted and finished his drink hurriedly, "We're not friends."

"What are we then?" Frank retorted.

"Acquaintances...," Leo shrugged awkwardly, not really knowing how else to label them. 

"Acquaintances with benefits."

A heavy silence settled over the two and Leo finally gathered himself up and told Frank what he had wanted to for ages,

"About those benefits," he wouldn't look at the other man, instead pouring himself another drink, "It has to end."

"Why? You getting feelings for me or something?" Frank was obviously kidding but Leo felt sick to his stomach. He knocked his drink back and enjoyed the warmth it filled him with. 

"No," he lied as the liquid courage buzzed through him, "Maybe I'm just tired of having your cock up my ass. From now on it's just strictly business."

"Strictly business?" Frank got up and took the bottle of whiskey off the counter, topping up his glass, "I'm stuck in some forest hut with you, drinking your liquor while you're in a flannel, does that seem very businessy to you?"

"You're welcome to leave," Leo said, collapsing in the armchair Frank had just been in. 

"And what? Next thing I know is I'm being dragged in for questioning? No thank-you," he shook his head and leaned against the counter, "You got me into this mess, you better get me out. And an apology would be nice; that can come in the form of putting me in contact with Ethan Nakamura-"

"Enough," Leo stood up. He was tired of hearing about Nakamura and opium and all of it, "I'm not talking business with you."

"I thought that was all we could do?" Frank raised an eyebrow, "all business, remember?"

Leo was so confused by everything, his feelings and the 'business.' All he wanted to do was come clean but he doubted that Frank would appreciate it, especially now. Looking at the man now Leo couldn't understand why he had such strong feelings for him - he was arrogant and complicated and had no respect for Leo, he was cold and controlling and...Leo shook his head to clear his brain,

"I'm going to sleep," he informed Frank, "you're taking the floor, and don't drink all my liquor,  _gilipollas."_  

*** 

Leo was groggily pulled out of his uneasy sleep by the feeling of large hands on his hips, and a hot mouth trailing his neck. His brain short-wired and for a second everything was bizarre and blurry as Leo's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He could hear the crickets in the grass outside, the wind-chimes on the porch, a steady breath against his collarbone. 

"What the fuck, Zhang?" Leo huffed out, fighting against his sleepiness and the heat that suddenly filled his body. His hands came up to push away at the man's naked shoulders and Frank pulled away enough so Leo could see his face. His eyes were dark and full of lust.

"I want you, Valdez," he said, voice low and raspy. Leo had to fight the urge to shiver, "I haven't got a good lay since we left Birmingham."

"You poor deprived bastard. You should've said," Leo tried to control his pounding heart, "I know loads of prostitutes that could've-"

"No," Frank interrupted. He didn't offer any further explanation as he ducked his head to continue to trace Leo's body with his lips. Fighting his sudden arousal and embracing his irritation at being molested, Leo shoved him back. Frank gave him a puzzled, vaguely annoyed look.

"I said that the only thing between us anymore is business," Leo clarified.

"And then you said that you don't wanna talk business," the bigger man took Leo's hands off of his chest, where they had been pressed to keep Frank away, and he pinned them down to the mattress, something Leo didn't appreciate. He wasn't in the mood to be Frank's fuck-toy, he didn't want to be used and discarded until the next time Frank couldn't keep it in his pants. 

"Back off, Zhang," Leo said icily and tried to squirm away, but Frank was a lot stronger. He kept Leo pinned as he bit playfully at his neck, Leo turned his head away, trying to kick Frank but the man only tangled their legs together. Leo felt weak and trapped, and not in control. He hated that, " _Zhang."_

"It's just sex, Valdez," Frank grumbled. Leo wrenched his wrist free and shoved it beneath the pillow. The feel of the cold gun in his hand gave him the confidence he needed and he used the surprise factor to knock Frank back with his shoulder, managing to sit up. He cocked the gun and pointed it at Frank's forehead, fast and practised. His hand didn't shake, his eyes were narrow and full of anger. Frank stared at him, wide eyed. 

"I said back off," Leo hissed. Frank raised his hands in surrender, and uncertainty flickered in his eyes for a second.

"Valdez I-"

"You're sleeping on the floor," Leo pressed the gun against Frank's forehead, "Get off the damn bed."

Frank hesitated, gave him a long look and then climbed off, disappearing into the kitchen. Leo laid awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling and clutching his gun. It's not that he was afraid of Frank specifically - he knew that if he had started shouting or crying or told him to stop, he would've backed off. But that encounter reminded Leo just what he was; weak. Without his power and his gang and his guns he was just another scrawny kid on the streets of Atlantic City.

*** 

Nyssa came the next day, rumbling out of the forest in her car. Leo didn't know if it was her for sure so he sat by the window with one of his bigger guns, observing the yard. He hadn't spoken to Frank all morning and the two avoided each other. When Leo saw his sister step out of the car, followed by Beckendorf, he exhaled with relief.

"You're going back with her," he told Frank as he put his gun away. The man didn't say anything, just nodded, not looking at Leo. 

The air was cool when Leo came outside to meet with his family. The sky was grey and heavy with clouds, reflecting Leo's sour mood. Nyssa was dressed like a man, her unruly hair pulled back from her face. Both her and Beck looked worried and uneasy.

"Leo," Nyssa exhaled visibly when she saw her brother and embraced him,  _"I was scared you wouldn't be here,"_ her eyes fell on Frank, standing on the porch, and she frowned,  _"What is he doing here?"_

 _"Why is he wearing my shirt?"_ Beckendorf raised an eyebrow. Leo ignored both of them,

 _"What's the situation?"_ he asked,  _"How's Harley?"_

Nyssa bit her lip,  _"He's in prison, they won't let us see him. Our lawyer's in there now, fighting the cops."_

 _"We need to get him out,"_ Leo gripped his sister's face," _That's out top priority. Talk to the major, remind him about the Cuba situation and that he owes me one."_

 _"_ Leo," Beckendorf stepped forward,  _"The cops are looking for you. You've been charged with breaking the Volstead Act."_

_"Everyone's breaking the Volstead Act!"_

_"...and a hundred other things."_

Leo made a sour face, " _Like what?"_

 _"Conspiracy, tax evasion, murder, kidnap,"_ Nyssa started listing, and with each word Leo's heart fell,  _"battery, drug related crimes, bribery, disturbing the peace."_

 _"Don't forget extortion and racketeering,"_ Beckendorf put in helpfully. Leo groaned and glared at the sky,

"They raided one warehouse," he said miserably in English. Nyssa put a hand on his shoulder,

"They can't charge you, they have no proof-"

"Except the Volstead Act bullshit," Beckendorf smiled, "It'll be okay."

"But I can't come back," Leo summarised. Beckendorf and Nyssa exchanged a look,

"It'll be best if you lay low for now," the girl said softly, "We have to deal with Harley and all of his guys-"

"I get it," Leo rubbed his face, "but you need to take Zhang back."

" _No!"_ Beckendorf and Nyssa said at the same time, startling Leo. 

" _Clarisse left yesterday on a ship back to Birmingham,"_ Beck explained heatedly, " _Zhang's been identified as a witness and a potential conspirator. He can't show his face in Atlantic anytime soon. Or Chicago. Or in Philly. Or anywhere really."_

_"Fuck."_

Nyssa passed Leo a bag, "Here's clothes, cash, all the stuff you might need. Lay low for a bit. In a week you both have to board the HMS Argo to Birmingham, the tickets are in the bag."

"I can't go to Birmingham-" Leo started protesting.

"Just for now," Nyssa gripped his hand, "Please. Just until we sort out Harley's stuff."

Leo exhaled slowly, "Fine. Alright."

Beck grinned and Nyssa kissed Leo's cheek, "Thank-you,  _hermano._ We'll come back in a few days to make sure everything is fine."

"Swell," Leo sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, " _gracias."_

Nyssa and Beckendorf got back into the car and Leo watched miserably as they drove back out into the forest and disappeared, leaving him all alone with Frank again.

"What did they say?" the man called from the porch. Leo gripped the bag in his hands, 

"We're stuck together,  _amigo,"_ he called back, "At least for another week."

***

Leo was out in the forest, gathering more wood for the fireplace. The previous night, with no Frank to wake him up with his warm arms, Leo had realised how cold it got, so he was determined to keep the fire going all night and not get frostbite, though he doubted the temperatures dropped  _that_ much. Besides, it was an excuse to get away from Frank and the uneasy atmosphere of the safehouse. He was eagerly counting down days until he could get out of the shack. 

He wouldn't stay with Frank in Birmingham - no way in hell. Leo had friends in London and Glasgow, down in Ireland. He'd stay with some of them, and from then his encounters with Frank would be non-existent. He'd send someone else to do business with the Birmingham Gang and never have to look at Frank again. Leo didn't know where all these feelings were coming from suddenly, he just knew that whatever he and Frank were doing...he couldn't continue it. At the start he thought it would just be an outlet for his sexual frustration but now he was on the verge of falling hopelessly in love with the man, and he didn't even know  _why,_ and he had to stop it before it happened. 

When he came back to the cottage Frank was cooking dinner. Leo didn't even know he could cook and as he shoved the wood into the fireplace he couldn't help but glance at Frank. The man was bustling around like a house-wife and in his casual shirt with rolled up sleeves he could've passed for a good old fashioned husband. 

"Whatcha cooking?" Leo asked, because he couldn't stand the heavy silence weighing down on them. Not that they had ever talked much in the first place - their encounters had always been either about sex or alcohol, but now they couldn't talk about either.

"Steak," Frank replied, "I got it this morning from the butcher's."

"Did you drive all the way into town?" Leo frowned, stepping away from the fireplace.

Frank glanced at him, "Yeah. It was early. You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Right."

That was that. 

***

The final day before their departure for Birmingham came surprisingly fast for Leo. He had almost forgot what day it was until Frank came and reminded him. Leo was sitting on the porch, watching the sun sink behind the trees. He was polishing his gun when Frank came and sat next to him, a bottle of bourbon in his hand.

"We have our boat tomorrow," he said, passing the bottle to Leo, almost like a gesture of apology. Leo took it and swallowed a big gulp of the liquor, relishing in the warmth it filled him with. He passed it back to Frank and the man drank too. Leo hadn't even noticed how peaceful and slow life was in the shack. Apart from another brief visit from Nyssa and the few times he or Frank went into town to buy supplies they were all alone with nature. It was nice after all the chaos, and Leo couldn't remember when he had started to yearn for the grey life, "You know, you can stay in my house. In Birmingham."

"I don't think that's wise," Leo said and took the bottle from him again, "Besides, I have some people I need to see up in London anyway."

Frank knew he was lying but didn't say anything, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pre-rolled cigarette's.

"Butt me," Leo said, and the man passed him one of the cigs. Leo tucked it behind his ear and took another swing of the liquor as Frank lit his own cigarette. He smoked it slowly. For some reason there was no awkwardness between them anymore, only a kind of tranquillity, as if they accepted what they had become. Leo drank and Frank smoked.

"I'm sorry," the older man said eventually, "about...you know."

Leo snorted, mouth twitching into a smile, "It's alright, don't sweat about it."

"Valdez," Frank exhaled a puff of smoke, "I'm serious. You can stay with me in Birmingham."

"I have business, Zhang," Leo said simply, giving a vague answer. He didn't have any business. His only business was Frank, "I'll put you in contact with Torrington and Nakamura though."

"I don't care about that," there was an edge to Frank's voice but Leo refused to look at him. He put the bottle to the side and took the cigarette in between his slim fingers,

"Do you have a light?" Leo tried to sound casual. Frank shook his head so Leo ignored the heavy feeling in his gut and leaned forward, so his and Frank's cigarette's touched, and inhaled so the end of his cigarette lit up. Pleased with himself Leo was about to pull away, but Frank reached out and touched his cheek. Leo's heart clenched at how close they were. Frank's fingers were soft and shy against his skin, and it felt weirdly intimate. The older man's dark eyes were full of something Leo couldn't describe. He took the cigarette out of his mouth with a trembling hand. 

"I'm not going to sleep with you again," he said softly, almost like an apology. 

"I wasn't going to ask you that," Frank frowned but didn't move his hand, "I don't...that's not what I want Leo."

Leo's heart clenched, "Then what _do_ you want?"

"I wanted to kiss you. I  _want_ to kiss you," Frank's eyes were searching Leo's face. The Latino swallowed but couldn't move, couldn't pull away,

"You know we don't do that," his voice was faint. Frank ignored him, his eyes full of fear and warmth, and he leaned forward slowly, giving Leo time to back out. But the Latino couldn't do much more than let his gaze slide down to Frank's lips, which were dangerously close. Their noses brushed together and Leo's breath hitched when Frank finally pressed their mouths together. Heat coiled in Leo's stomach and his hand jerked out to grab a fistful of Frank's shirt, as if it was his first kiss. It was all careful and soft, but Leo felt closer to Frank than he had all those times before. It was a brief though, and Frank pulled away too soon for Leo's liking. 

"I'm sorry," he said again and then, as if he couldn't stop himself, he kissed Leo again, this kiss slightly longer than the last, and more desperate, "I'm sorry."

"What do you keep apologising for, _cabrón_?"

Frank's head dropped to Leo's shoulder and the man sighed, "For...everything. I wasn't...it wasn't meant to be like this."

"Don't be stupid," Leo said shakily, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. Frank's arms slid around his waist and pulled him close and Leo was finding it hard to breathe with Frank holding him like that, like he truly cared. Leo had stupid words ready to spill out of his mouth but he knew that they'd just ruin everything, so he tangled his hands in Frank's hair and pulled him back up so he could slide their lips together again. This kiss was longer, more passionate, and the feelings bubbling inside of Leo were too much. He clung onto Frank feverishly, brows furrowing as he kissed him fiercely. 

Frank pulled away just enough so that their lips brushed together. He pecked Leo once, then again, and again. 

" _Te amo,"_ Leo whispered helplessly, his breath mingling with the other man's. Frank's thumb stroked the Latino's cheek, " _Te amo,_ you asshole."

Frank folded Leo into his arms and held him tightly. 

"I should've kissed you before. It was a stupid rule," he mumbled.

"Frank...you know we shouldn't...," Leo bit his lip, pulling back, "You know..."

"Pipe down, would you?" Frank kissed Leo again, and the Latino found himself quickly getting addicted to the way Frank cradled his face when their lips pressed together. His heart was pounding almost painfully until Leo couldn't take it anymore and stood up, hands trembling. It was weird to think he could steadily hold a gun but was unable to take a simple kiss. 

"You coming or what?" he grumbled, turning to the house. Frank grinned and stood up,

"Hey Leo," he called, putting out their cigarettes on the ground with his shoe.

"What?"

" _Te amo."_


	4. The Northern Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael Kahale is a lower class worker in 1930's London, who thinks he will never be anything more than what he is now. However he gets the opportunity to join a group of adventurers on an expedition to the arctic circle, to overwinter there. Octavian Augustus, an upper class boy and a member of the expedition, hates him for some reason. But when the two are left all alone in a hut in the middle of an icy desert they have to learn to like each other...maybe even too much.  
> Inspired by: Dark Matter by Michelle Paver/Northern Lights by Philip Pullman

**THE NORTHERN LIGHTS**

Michael Kahale never thought he'd amount to anything. He spent his entire twenty five year old life in a dingy apartment in a grey part of London with his sickly mother. When he turned seventeen she passed away but he just continued to live there, walking through the heaps of people sleeping on his staircase to get home, because he had nowhere else to go. He got jobs here and there, sometimes on a building sight sometimes on a sailors boat, whatever he could hang onto. He was still luckier than most - at least he had a roof over his head, no matter if it was leaky. People liked him because he was tall and strong and worked hard but the truth was Michael wasn't anything more or less than anyone else, he was just very, very lucky. 

Michael thought he'd grow older, maybe find a wife, maybe not, die from one thing or other in his flat and be buried in the tiny graveyard next to the chapel with mother, maybe leaving his tiny living space for his children, maybe not, depending if he had any. He didn't have the privilege of making up big dreams for himself, nobody as poor as him did. He couldn't imagine what would happen in five years, or in ten years, because he could be dead by then - hunger could've got him, or sickness or he could be murdered. It didn't matter to Michael, he wasn't really living, just existing. 

He remembered that when he was still a child he had hope; he didn't understand that people who grew up in poverty rarely left it. He most wanted to go to the arctic, more than anything. His mother even got him a cutout black and white picture from a paper of explorers up in Norway, and Michael so, so wanted to be them. He wanted to wear the big coats and be with all the massive cuddly huskies, he wanted to see the night that never ended and the northern lights up in the sky. But for that you had to be rich and privileged and Michael was neither.

But in June 1937, everything changed.

Michael came home on the sweltering afternoon after a day down at the docks, helping to load boxes of tobacco on-board a ship. His shirt was sticking to his body and he was  _exhausted,_ and the people hoarding his staircase and making the air humid with their body heat really wasn't helping. Somehow Michael got through the masses without stepping on anyone's leg and gratefully slipped inside his flat. It wasn't much of a relief though - the air smelled a bit rotten from whatever was going off in the neighbours' homes and the heat was unbearable. Michael wished he could afford a fan.

He stripped down to just his trousers and went about making himself some dinner. He couldn't really afford much since the dock job didn't pay that well. He had to scrape by until the end of the month when he'd get his paycheck, so all he could find in his house was some slightly stale bread and a small piece of leftover meat. He made a flavourless, thin stew and forced it down with the bread, sitting at his ratty kitchen table alone. The sun set but the weather didn't let up; the heat was making it hard to eat so Michael did his best and then went to the ice box (his most priced possession) and pulled out the last bottle of coca cola that he had been saving for an evening like this one. He was halfway through the bottle when the knock on the door sounded. 

Michael shrugged on a flannel shirt just in case and padded to the door. He expected it to be the mailman, or one of the neighbours complaining about something, or a beggar asking for money. The people he saw were a shock to him. 

The two girls were  _not_ the kind that showed up in this part of London - Michael's part. Both of them were tall, willowy and graceful. One of them had long pale blonde hair and intelligent grey eyes that shone from her clean, ivory face. Her companion had a slightly darker complexion, chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. They were both dressed in pretty dresses that had no business being in Michael's flat.

"Uh...can I help you?" the man offered, gripping his cold coke in one hand as if it was a lifeline.  

"Mr Michael Kahale?" the blonde asked, and her voice had the straight edge of the upper class people to it.

"I-I...yes. Yes. That's me," Michael cleared his throat awkwardly. The blonde smiled at him as if sensing his nervousness,

"My name is Annabeth Chase," she gestured at her companion, "this is Piper McLean. Do you mind if we come in?"

Michael gaped at them for a second. He had no idea why these two well dressed  _ladies_ would want to come into his dingy, dirty apartment, but whatever it was he couldn't refuse so he just nodded and moved to the side, allowing the two to sweep into his flat. The wide, surprised eyes of the stair-tenants shone at him from the shadows but he ignored them as he closed the door and hurriedly did up his shirt.

"I'm sorry I wasn't expecting guests," he told the two women, but they didn't seem to mind the state of disarray his flat was in. 

"That's quite alright, you had no way of knowing we'd come," the brunette - Piper - offered him a dimpled smile, "we should be the one's apologising for intruding, Mr Kahale."

"Please," Michael interrupted, flushing, "It's just Michael."

"Michael," now it was Annabeth's turn to speak, "let's not beat around the bush and waste your time. You must be wondering who we are and why we're here."

Piper perched casually on the edge of Michael's couch, clearly not bothered about the rag-tag state of it. 

"See me and Annabeth here are going on an adventure," she said. 

"Exploration," Annabeth corrected quickly, "we are going to explore the Arctic to be precise."

"T-The Arctic?" Michael stuttered, suddenly remembering the black and white cutout, "two women?"

Annabeth made a sour face, "I think we are most capable, thank you very much-"

"We're going to study the Norther Lights," Piper interjected, calming her friend down with a hand on her wrist, "Annabeth here is educated in the sciences. And I'm going because of my knowledge of the language...Norwegian, that is. We're going to North Norway, part of the Arctic Circle."

"Right...," Michael was slowly understanding what was happening, but he didn't allow himself to hope - not yet.

"Another of our friends, he's a man if that makes you feel any better," Annabeth's eyes narrowed, "is going as our communications person. The trip and all the equipment is paid for my the University of Oxford so you clearly wouldn't worry about expenses-"

"We want you to come with us," Piper summarised elegantly before Annabeth could get ahead of herself, offering Michael a smile. He stared at her. Then he stared at Annabeth. He glanced at his half finished coca cola and wondered what the fuck was in it. This couldn't be real - two random ladies sitting in his flat was wild enough without them asking him to go on an adventure to the Arctic.

"W-Why me?" he asked, baffled. 

"We need some muscle," Annabeth said simply, "we went down to the docks and some men informed us that you are considered one of the strongest, best workers."

"We'd be honoured to have you join our expedition," Piper stood up and took Michael's big hands in her small, dainty ones. Her eyes were full of determination, "Please say you'll come. It will be the trip of a lifetime, a way to explore the North. We'd only be gone some months, over the winter-"

"When the sun never rises," Michael remembered, "and it's only night."

Piper's hands tightened on his, "Yes," she sounded breathless, "the most magical time; the Polar Night."

"This is important," Annabeth took his other hand, "We need a fourth person or this will never work. Please, you must come."

"Of course," a sudden happiness bloomed in Michael's heart and he felt he couldn't breathe, "Of course I'll come."

And then he was grinning and so was Piper, and so was Annabeth, "Oh Octavian will be ever so pleased!"

*** 

Octavian was a mystery to Michael for months after that. After Piper and Annabeth's initial visit six months passed before the expedition was actually ready to proceed, and Michael was in the dark for a huge part of it. He continued to work at the docks, his life a clash of not knowing which aspect felt more like an illusion - his daily life or the fact that he was actually fulfilling his dreams and going to the Arctic. The two girls often visited him to update him about the preparations but Michael felt cut off from the whole thing, like an outsider.

But the thing he was interested in more than the preparations was Octavian Augustus. He was the only person that hadn't come to see Michael, the mysterious communications specialist. Michael didn't want to pry and ask about him, or why he hadn't come to meet the fourth member of the expedition, so he took to making him up in his head. For some reason he expected someone called Octavian to be an old, burly man. In Michael's head he started to look a bit like a viking.

Some part of Michael nervously anticipated the moment when the expedition would be called off and he'd be told it was all a hoax. But six months passed in tense awaiting, and then Annabeth took him to buy gear, and it all started to feel real. Michael was fitted for jumpers, jackets, socks, mittens, hats, even thermal underwear. The total for all the clothes came higher than Michael's rent for a year but before he could start panicking Annabeth reminded him that all of it was being payed for by the University of Oxford.

And then just like that October rolled around, London was covered in a thick layer of fallen, muddy leaves, and it was time to set out. 

Michael still felt like he was in a dream even as he, Piper and Annabeth climbed the rail onto the ship in Liverpool that would take them Longyearbyen in Norway. It was a small ship; Michael knew, he worked at the docks on the Thames most of his life. But once he was on top, gripping the rail and watching the water splash against the side, he felt like he was on top of a mountain. Piper and Annabeth disappeared to locate the captain though Michael barely noticed their disappearance.

"So you're the infamous Mr Kahale, I presume?" a voice startled Michael out of his staring at the sea. He turned around and saw a  _boy_ standing a few paces away from him. He couldn't have been older than eighteen or nineteen with a slim, almost scrawny figure and hair paler than anyone Michael had ever met. His eyes were blue and cold, looking almost like ice. They were full of pride and disregard. 

"I...yes. That's me," Michael couldn't stop staring. Octavian Augustus looked young, and out of place somehow, almost like he was made of snow, "you must be Octavian."

The boy pulled a face, "Mr Augustus will suffice," he said. Michael didn't know how to reply to that, he just kept staring. Octavian's eyes narrowed, "I'm sorry, is there something on my face?"

"No," Michael said quickly, "It's just that you're so...," for some reason the word  _pretty_ came into his head, though of course Octavian was a boy so he shouldn't have been pretty, "...pale," he finished awkwardly. Octavian rolled his eyes,

"I'm sickly."

Michael frowned, "Is it smart for you to be coming with us then?"

Octavian gaped at him, " _Excuse me?!"_

"What's going on?" Piper appeared, all dimples and smiles, "Michael! I see you've met Octavian."

"This  _commoner,"_ Octavian seethed, surprising everyone, "just implied that I'm unfit to make the journey."

"Oh no that's not what I meant-," Michael started protesting. Octavian turned to Piper,

"I want him off the ship. Right now. He's not coming with us."

Michael felt his heart drop but Piper just gave Octavian a look, "We need the manpower, you know that. The three of us can't go alone.

"I don't care," Octavian gritted. Piper sighed,

"Can't you get along with someone for  _once?"_

"I _do_ get along with people," Octavian directed his angry glare at Michael, "Just not with someone who insults me. We can do without the manpower, or whatever he's supposed to bring to the table."

Michael knew he should probably continue to apologise and smooth things over but somehow he knew that if he appeared weak now Octavian would treat him as a inferior for the remainder of the trip. And Michael wasn't going to have that; he wouldn't let some rich  _kid_ ruin the trip of a lifetime.

"You're a bit of an abercrombie, ain't ya?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking  _down_ at Octavian, which was easy since the boy was a good head shorter. He saw the blonde's eye twitch,

"I have no idea what that means," he hissed, "but please refrain from using your pleb language around me you dirty commoner."

" _Octavian."_

But the blonde just gave Michael one long, angry look and stormed off like the child he technically was. Piper gave Michael an apologetic look but the man just waved her off. He didn't really care if Octavian didn't like him, he wasn't here for him, he was here for the ice and the night and the northern lights. It would've been nice if Octavian was a viking and not some bratty kid, though. 

For the next few weeks on the ship Michael did his best to avoid antagonising the boy any further, and had the time to get accustomed to the idea that he'd probably never be another grey London boy again; and that made him inexplicably happy, no matter how much Octavian and his snobbishness tried to ruin that. 

***

Despite the blonde's moodiness Michael was the happiest he had ever been. They arrived in Norway mid-October, and after weeks on the ship with only dark waves around them broken up occasionally by chunks on ice, Michael was glad to see land again. And Norway was  _beautiful;_ from the ship it looked like the ground was covered in a perfect layer of snow, the white vastness interrupted ever so often by a cluster of lights that indicated towns. far in the back ice cliffs loomed high and powerful over the landscape. 

The next surprise made Michael even more excited. While their ship restocked on supplies Annabeth took the rest of her team for a treat. The treat turned out to be dogs. Six beautiful, big huskies were waiting for them, their bright eyes staring at the newcomers with warmth and acceptance. They were just like the ones Michael had wanted as a child. He and Piper were immediately mesmerised with the creatures, falling in the snow in their heavy gear to play with them, grinning like children. Annabeth watched them fondly but Octavian kept his distance,

"I hate dogs," he stated plainly, "they're dirty."

Michael felt his irritation spike at hearing this, and it took everything he had not to glare at the blonde, "Goddamn twit," he grumbled under his breath. Regardless of Octavian's negative attitude towards the animals Piper argued that they were needed for the expedition and the next thing Michael knew was that he was sitting on the prow of the ship, surrounded by the dogs, happy as could be. Not only did he get to spend time with the amazing creatures but they were also a personal shield against Octavian and his saltiness.

***

The ship dropped them off on the North coast of Svalbard. Technically the land they would be overwintering on wasn't yet claimed, which seemed to  _really_ excite Octavian, but with his stupid pride it was unsurprising. The boy was the complete opposite to Michael, not only appearance wise but also through the way he saw life. He seemed materialistic and almost like he had something to prove, while Michael was just happy to be in the Arctic.

That happiness dimmed a little when the expedition came off the ship and saw their 'camp,' situated not too far from the coast. It had been prepared several weeks prior - a small wooden hut build from scrap wood - but the expedition found that it had been badly damaged by a snow storm. 

It was a few days before the sun would disappear for months, leaving this part of Norway covered in never ending night, and once the sun was gone it would be hard to set anything up. Michael took it upon himself to fix their shelter, glad to finally be of use. The wooden shack no bigger than his flat back in London, with a doghouse a lean-to next to it. When Michael got to work he didn't care that they'd be stuck in such a small space for months, he was more focused on the world around him, and how breathtaking it was. The sun was sinking behind the horizon, amber and gold, making the sea glitter where it met the ice. The distant jagged mountains seemed to erupt from the ground like claws. 

Annabeth was eager to help Michael with the reparations and they made quick work of it that first evening despite their uncomfortable, constricting outfits as Piper and Octavian went to set up some equipment that Michael had no idea about it. As he and the blonde girl fixed a spare slab of wood over a wall which had partially rotted over, Michael asked her about Octavian.

"What's his deal?" he asked, "he's always in a bad mood and never helps with anything."

"He's got anaemia," Annabeth explained, and then smiled at Michael's confused expression, "it's a sickness. It involves blood cells and causes things such as fatigue and pain."

"Will he  _die?"_ Michael tried not to sound too excited at the prospect.

"No. I don't think so," Annabeth bit her lip, "I know you're probably wondering why he's here if he's so sick. It's just something he feels he needs to do. His parents are a bit...obsessive. Piper says they didn't even let him out of the house as a child, which probably made things worse. This is a way for him to finally get control over his life," she offered Michael another smile, "Once you get past the fact that he's an asshole he's very sensitive, and almost likeable."

"Sweet," Michael grumbled, "I just hope I'm never stuck here alone with him because I think I might strangle him."

*** 

The cabin was small, tiny even. Apart from the toilet it was all one room, with a massive oven in the middle that heated up the shack. To the explorer's dismay there was only a bunk bed and a single bed, almost like everyone had forgot that there was four and not three of them. After some bickering (mainly from Octavian) the girls agreed to share the single bed while Octavian took the top bunk and Michael claimed the bottom.

Their first few days full of sunshine were heaped with work. Annabeth trekked up a close-by cliff to set up equipment that looked complicated, she filled out her maps and charts, which were a mystery to Michael. Octavian set up a massive machine in the corner of the shack, and Piper explained it was used to communicate with England as well as Longyearbyen through Morse code. Michael had no idea what Morse code was but he understood that it was a means of communication. Octavian and Piper spent hours hunched over the machine; the boy clicking out messages and the girl translating them to and from Norwegian. 

Michael felt like an idiot among the three educated explorers. He had never gone to school, he had worked since his earliest days to make sure he and his mother didn't starve to death, and he never minded. Nobody ever bullied him, despite the fact that his skin was darker than 'normal,' because he had always been big and strong, even as a kid, and people were scared to get on his bad side. But here, in the Arctic, his strength didn't seem to matter. Besides, Piper and Annabeth didn't mean to make him feel self-conscious, though he couldn't be sure about Octavian. 

So the first few days in the Arctic Michael spent with the dogs. They were excitable and beautiful and wonderful, and Michael liked taking them out into the ice plains and playing with them in the snow until it got  _literally_ everywhere. He was still mesmerised by Norway; the air was frosty and it bit at his exposed face but his body was warm in the multiple layers he wore. The glimmering sea was calm and inviting though Michael knew if he was ever tempted to jump in he'd freeze to death. The water was dotted with speckles of white where the ice had broken away from the land and drifted out. On the third day Michael caught a glimpse of a seal. Arctic birds circled in the sky constantly; no matter how cold and deserted this part of Norway seemed, it was still teeming with life, you just had to be able to see it. 

By the week mark, when the sun disappeared behind the horizon for good, Michael had bonded with Piper and Annabeth. It was hard to not like the girls, especially when they spend practically all their time together. Once they got past the class boundaries Michael found that they had a lot in common. Piper was always up for random walks to explore their icy shore and shared Michael's love for the dogs. Annabeth was a great cook (even with all the canned shit they had to eat) and a wicked card player. 

Only Octavian was distant, seemingly taking it upon himself to scare Michael away from the expedition. He never failed to point out the differences between them, and Michael's lower status to the point where it went past being annoying, and started to get frustrating. Michael didn't know what his issue was for a long time, but he tried not to be bothered by the boy. There were plenty other things to focus on.

Michael didn't mind the food, he had worse, and he ignored Octavian's complaining about it. He spent hours outside, watching the starry sky. Because of the smog he could never seen stars in London but in Norway they were brilliant, and they seemed close enough that if Michael extended his hand he almost believed he could reach them.

By two weeks he and the others were falling into a kind of pattern; Annabeth went out in the morning to check her equipment and alongside Piper they made notes about the terrain and the wildlife and the migration patterns and other complicated stuff. Michael would go out with the dogs and explore their shore while Octavian communicated with Longyearbyen and London. They'd have dinner and play cards or listen to the radio (a privilege Michael didn't have before). There seemed to always be something to do, something to fix, something to fetch. It became harder and more dangerous as the sun disappeared and the Polar Night descended on the land; Michael went out with Annabeth to her equipment each 'morning' to make sure she didn't slip and crack her head or get attacked by a snow bear. Weirdly Michael started to think of their little group as a family, something he hadn't had since his mother died. Annabeth and Piper were like the sisters he never had, excited and girly in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Octavian was...well...Octavian was hard to figure out but despite all his hissy fits Michael started to develop a soft spot for him, and desperately wanted the boy to open up to him. 

Michael was surprised when about a month in when he was getting ready to take the dogs out for their daily walk, Octavian offered to come with him. 

"Are you going to shank me?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow as he did up his snow boots, "and leave me for the snow to bury me?"

Octavian made a sour face, "If I wanted to murder you I'd be a bit more creative."

Michael followed Octavian out to the doghouse, where they let the excited huskies out into the snow. It was dark, but a different dark to night-dark. The sky on the horizon seemed a tiny bit brighter than the rest, but overhead the stars twinkled as always. There were no days in the Arctic, just never-ending nights. Fresh snow had fallen earlier and as Michael and Octavian drew further away from the shack it crunched beneath their feet. The huskies  _yip_ and  _yapped_ at each other happily, chasing each other through the snow drifts. Michael was confused by Octavian's company; the boy hadn't talked to him at all, just made rude remarks. 

"Seriously though, why did you come with me? You don't even like dogs," Michael initiated conversation, curious.

Octavian's voice sounded muffled because of the scarf covering the lower half of his face, "I was tired of sitting in all day."

"Sweet," Michael nodded, biting his lip and trying to think of something to say that wouldn't annoy the blonde boy, "so...are you dizzy with a dame?"

"Dizzy with who?" Octavian seemed puzzled. One of the huskies bounded over to them with a frozen stick clasped in its powerful jaws. With a grin Michael pulled it free and tossed it far into the shadowed snow, watching the animals spring after it. The man let out a huff of laughter which turned white in front of his face,

"Are you in love with a girl," Michael clarified. Octavian was silent, "What? No muffin waiting for you at home?"

"I hate the way you speak," Octavian grumbled.

"It was going so well why are you gumming the works?" Michael grumbled back. Octavian didn't reply and they fell silent, trudging through the snow. Michael didn't feel like being best buds with the blonde, especially if Octavian wasn't willing to  _try_ and get past their differences. The dogs came back with the stick so Michael threw it again. When he looked behind them the shack was just a faint light somewhere far away. The wind tugged at their clothes.

"I don't have...a muffin," Octavian spoke quietly, "back at home."

"Ah. Well, you still have time," Michael shrugged. One of the huskies pounced from the shadows and almost violently knocked Michael backwards in the snow. The man's breath left the body but then he was laughing breathlessly as the dog pressed its paws down on his chest, keeping him down and playfully licking his face. Michael grinned, scratching its muzzle. The other dogs came dashing through the snow, eyes bright as they kicked up snow. Octavian backed up, hugging himself protectively.

"Oh come on you crumb," Michael sat up, "they're just dogs."

"I don't like dogs," Octavian mumbled. Michael got up and dusted the snow off of his jacket,

"You're a whacko. Or you have no soul. Or both."

Octavian didn't say anything, just looked at the dogs. There was fear in his eyes. Feeling a bit bad for what he said Michael awkwardly offered the younger boy his gloved hand. Octavian's pale eyes flickered to his face and then down to his hand,

"C'mon. They're not scary."

"I'm not scared," Octavian scoffed, angrily shoving his hand into Michael's. The man smiled and tugged the boy forward, pressing their joint hands on top of the closest huskies head. The dog panted and gave a happy sound, nuzzling their hands. Octavian uncertainly looked at Michael but the man just smiled encouragingly,

"A dog are a man's best friend," he said, "they'll never hurt you. Unless you threaten them."

Octavian swallowed and uneasily petted the husky, "Good boy."

"Let's get back to the cave. I'll race you," Michael said with a grin, moving his hand away. The blonde's eyes widened but Michael was already jogging backwards, "Move those drumsticks, let's go!"

He took off, sprinting through the snow. He picked up his speed and the wind whistled in his ears. Michael felt weirdly free, as if he was flying, the snow parting beneath his feet. The dogs raced at his sides, eager to keep up, eyes full of satisfaction. Somewhere behind him Michael heard Octavian's hurried footsteps, ringing in his head. By the time he reached the shack he was out of breath. His legs were burning and his lungs ached but in the best way. 

Octavian came to a stop next to Michael after a minute as all the dogs rolled around in the snow to cool down after the exercise. Michael looked up to grin at Octavian but the smile fell right off his face when he saw the boy. He was doubled over, gasping for breath, hand curled into the fabric of his coat, just over his heart.

"Octavian?" Michael asked, "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm f-fine...," the boy sounded hoarse and in pain. Panic spiked in Michael and he took a step towards the boy, "G-Get...P-Piper."

But Piper was already coming outside. Her eyes widened when she saw Octavian,

"What happened?!" she demanded, gripping his shoulders. He tried to speak but he couldn't catch his breath, his whole body was trembling. Michael's stomach squeezed and he felt sick.

"We were racing-"

"Christ, he's not supposed to tire himself out!" there was a hysterical edge to Piper's voice, "Tav? Tav, how's your heartbeat?" the boy just shook his head, hand tightening on Piper's as the girl slid it to his chest. She listened for a second, biting her lip, and then almost swore, "Christ, it's escalating."

"I-It's f-fine...," Octavian wheezed. Michael just stood there, frozen. Piper gave him a look and then pulled Octavian inside the hut, the boy stumbling as if he were blind. Michael stayed out in the snow, wondering what the hell just happened. He remembered Annabeth mentioning something about anaemia, and Octavian's sickness. But Octavian seemed so _healthy_ all the time. Seeing the boy like that; looking like he was about to pass out...it shook Michael more than he cared to admit. He wanted to rush to the hut and make sure the boy was okay - after all it was his fault that he was in this state, he should've remembered that Octavian was ill...but he knew that going inside the cabin wouldn't help now. He didn't know what to do anyway. He was useless...again. 

Feeling like an idiot and blaming himself for making Octavian exhausted, Michael shuffled to the doghouse and let the overexcited huskies inside, re-filling their food and water bowls. He sat in the dark with the animals for a while, too anxious to go back into the hut. But he couldn't stay out here forever so eventually, after about twenty minutes, the man picked himself up and dragged himself inside their hut.

Annabeth was scribbling something on a map by the light of a lamp. Piper was curled up on their bed, reading a book. She looked up and gave Michael a tense smile when he walked in. Octavian was just a lump under the blankets...Michael's blankets. The girls hadn't bothered to try and get him to the top bunk so now he was curled up on Michael's bed, only the top of his pale hair peeking out. 

"How is he?" Michael asked quietly, breaking the silence. 

"He's alright," Piper closed the book, "he loses energy easily."

"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault," Annabeth glanced up at Michael, "Besides he'll be alright."

"It's just...he was so...pale," Michael mumbled. Piper smiled,

"He's always pale. We've been friends since we were children. I know how to deal with his anaemia, so as long as I'm here there's nothing to worry about."

***

Piper was right - everything was fine while she was there. Another month of darkness passed and Octavian slowly warmed up to Michael - his little 'incident' had made him more sheepish and quiet. Of course he still made fun of Michael for being lower class but the man didn't mind as much; there was something about Octavian that inspired kindness. It was clear that he was troubled and Michael found himself wanting to weirdly protect him, though he tried not to question it too much. Sometimes Octavian would ran out of breath after a simple task or he'd be dizzy or his legs would cramp, and sometimes he stayed up all night because he couldn't sleep, but Piper knew how to deal with all of it, cradling Octavian in her arms like a little brother to ease his discomfort.

And then Piper fell sick. 

It started with a little cough, nothing to be alarmed about. After all it was bitingly cold and of course their bodies would react differently to such a change of atmosphere; the constant night and winter, despite its beauty, was taking a toll on everyone. Octavian wasn't sleeping, Michael was constantly too hot in his winter clothes, Annabeth was irritable and Piper...Piper had pneumonia. Two months and five days into their expedition she was bed ridden and the rest of her team had no choice but to wire to Longyearbyen and get a ship down to take her to a hospital.

The girl was riddled with fever and kept apologising for jeopardising the 'mission.' It took the ship four days to get to their outpost and in that time Annabeth, Octavian and Michael had multiple arguments about what to do. Annabeth was set on all of them returning together and abandoning their exploration, but Octavian fiercely wanted to stay, wanting to prove that he could do it. Michael backed Annabeth because a big part of him was scared for Octavian's health and seeing Piper, one of the healthiest people he knew, fall ill was unsettling. In the end it was the sick girl that decided for everyone - she didn't want all their hard work to go for nothing. 

So on one 'morning' which was almost as dark as the night the fishing ship sent out a small boat to collect Piper and Annabeth, who refused to let the girl go by herself. She explained to Octavian all about her equipment and what he had to check and Piper feverishly told them that they should only wire London until she came back because they didn't know Norwegian. There were some hugs and kisses and then the two girls were off. Octavian and Michael watched the ship disappear into the darkness, both of them glumly wondering if Piper would survive the sickness - many didn't.

When the two boys were left all alone with just each other, the sea and the never ending ice for company Michael realised how overwhelming the Arctic was. To think that for miles and miles there was no other human was startling. The icy landscape seemed like a different planet. 

Michael and Octavian went back inside the house and Michael didn't like how quiet it was without the girls. The only sounds were the clicking of the Morse Code machine, the fire softly crackling in the oven and the wind howling outside, pressing against the windows. Suddenly Michael didn't like the idea of the curtains being drawn back. He imagined someone standing outside in the snow, covered by shadows, looking inside their home. He hurriedly drew them and felt better immediately.

"I can teach you poker," Octavian was shrugging off his snow crusted boots, "if you'd like."

"You know how to play poker?" Michael asked as he sat down at the table. Octavian rolled his eyes and joined him, a deck of cards in hand,

"Of course _you_ don't," he snorted and started dividing cards, "This is going to be complicated...let me get the chips."

He delved into his bags, which were shoved beneath his and Michael's bunk. The older man watched him, "I just realised we have a free bed now that the girls are gone."

"It's obviously mine," Octavian said airily, laying multicoloured poker chips on the table. Michael had seen him play with the girls before but he had never made an attempt to join. He started to explain the rules to Michael and the man did his best to keep up with the boys elaborate explanations but he got a bit distracted by how slim and pale his wrists was as he gestured with his hands. 

"So...what's the prize?" Michael asked, "for the winner?"

"Your honour."

"Well ain't that a curve," Michael exhaled in disappointment.  

"Well what can you offer, tough guy?" Octavian asked with a sarcastic smile on his lips. Michael shrugged,

"Whatever you want," he said, "and if I win you'll give me something as well. Whatever I ask. Even if it's cleaning the toilet."

Octavian made a face, "Fine," he stuck his hand out and Michael shook it, grinning. 

They played, and Michael lost. He demanded a second round and he lost that too. The third round he miraculously won but the glint in Octavian's eye told him that it was because the blonde had let him off. By the time they finished their sixth game the clock on the table told them that it was four in the morning, though it didn't really matter in the Arctic, not when it was always dark. In the end Michael had two wins and four losses and Octavian was grinning at him as if he had just won the Olympics.

Michael sighed, "Sweet," he said sarcastically, dropping his cards on the table and looking at the impressive pile of chips on Octavian's side of the table. He leaned back in his chair and looked tiredly at the blonde, "Right. So what do you want? Should I clean the bathroom? Be on cooking duty for a week?"

Uncertainty flickered in Octavian's eyes as he slowly stood up. The boys hands were clenched around each other as he looked at Michael hesitantly, "No," he said softly. Then he curled his hands into fists and raised his chin, eyes full of sudden determination. When he spoke his voice was unwavering, "I want you to kiss me."

Michael stared at him and his heart gave one beat that wasn't in time with the others, "I-I...I'm not queer."

"That's not what I asked," Octavian snapped and took a step towards Michael. Because the man was sitting the boy was taller and he took this opportunity to look down at Michael, "I don't care what you are. I want you to kiss me."

Michael stared at him but Octavian had clearly made up his mind, his gaze unwavering. Michael stood up so he towered over the boy, his gaze sliding to his lips. For some reason Michael wasn't repulsed, the way he thought he might be. Instead his heart was racing and his hands were shaking in anticipation. Michael had never thought about kissing a boy, he had always liked girls and never questioned which way he swung. But now as he looked at Octavian with his pale eyes and pale skin and pale hair he couldn't help but feel captivated. He  _wanted_ to kiss Octavian, he felt drawn to him for some reason. 

Michael stepped closer to Octavian so they were almost touching. He could smell the boy, a mixture of the coffee they drank earlier mixed with the crispy winter outside. A part of Michael wanted to reach out and cup Octavian's face, or wrap an arm around his waist, but he refrained from doing that. Octavian had just asked for a kiss and Michael was determined to give him  _only_ that. So he leaned down, barely had time to feel Octavian's shaky breath on his lips, and he pressed their mouths together. 

The kiss lasted maybe three seconds. Octavian's lips were soft and wet, his nose brushed against Michael's cheek, and then the older man was pulling away. He felt light headed as he looked at Octavian. The boy looked up at him for a second, his eyes big in his face, and then he turned and walked to the Morse Machine, slipping on his headphones and typing out a message as if nothing had happened. Michael collapsed onto his bottom bunk and turned away from Octavian, squeezing his eyes shut and ignoring his inner turmoil. It was almost as if the kiss hadn't happened...except it had. 

*** 

When Michael woke up groggily he knew something was wrong. The wind was whistling against the windows and the room was shadowed in darkness, all the lights switched off. The man gave himself a moment to let his gaze adjust to the gloom and then slipped out of bed. He padded over to the table, still strewn with poker chips because Octavian never cleaned up after himself. The clock showed seven in the morning - in a few hours Michael would have to trudge up the hill with Octavian to check the readings on Annabeth's machines. He glanced at the other boy's bed and his heart flipped in his chest. The blankets had been thrown to the side, and the bed was empty. 

Nervously Michael walked over to the door to the outhouse, "Octavian?" he asked and knocked. A silence answered him. He couldn't even hear the dogs next door. It was just him and the wind, "Octavian!" Michael called, hoping that against odds the stupid kid was hiding somewhere, playing a prank on him. When he got no reply Michael stumbled to the window in panic, but he couldn't see much. Octavian's outdoor clothes were hanging neatly on the peg next to his, and Michael shoved his on. He noticed that the other boy's boots were gone as he blundered outside.

The cold came as a shock - it always did - after the warmth of the hut. Snow was drifting lazily from the sky and the sea whispered as it brushed over the shore. All around him Michael could only see the night sky and the white hills of snow. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted Octavian's name, but his voice was snatched by the wind. 

Suddenly a bright light exploded overhead. Startled, Michael craned his neck up and saw the Aurora Borealis unfold in the night sky. The breathtaking northern lights cast an eerie blue and green glow on the frozen world below, and in the newfound light Michael saw shapes in the distance. Without even thinking about it he broke into a run, his heart pounding. He had no idea why Octavian was out here but he was sick with worry, his insides twisting.

The dogs noticed him first and with happy yips they bounded towards him. Michael didn't stop to pet them as he continued running towards the figure that was lying on the ground. In the glow from the northern lights Octavian looked washed out and dead.

"Octavian!" Michael yelled, when he was close enough.

"I'm fine," the boy replied weakly. He was dressed just in a jumper and a pair of thermal trousers, the shoelaces of his boots undone. Michael collapsed next to him, feeling hysteria rising inside him,

"What are you doing?!" he demanded, pulling Octavian up into a sitting position and dusting snow off of his shoulders. The boy was limp in his arms, "Are you crazy?! Where's your coat? You're gonna freeze to death!"

"I-I couldn't sleep," Octavian was shaking from the cold. His lips were blue, his cheeks and nose red, "I-I just wanted t-to go f-for a walk a-and...," he swallowed hard as Michael pulled off his jackets with equally trembling hands, "I-I couldn't breathe a-and I just wanted t-to rest for a s-second and...my d-damn limbs started to h-hurt..."

"Shh, shut up now," Michael wrapped his coat around Octavian's shoulders, not feeling the cold anymore, and without hesitation hoisted the boy up into his arms. Octavian curled up against his chest, hiding his face from the wind and shaking violently. Michael cradled him protectively in his arms as he started towards the house, alternating between jogging and walking fast. Octavian weighed barely anything. The dogs filed in around them, their eyes reflecting the northern lights above. 

Michael barrelled into the hut and set Octavian down on the bed that used to be Annabeth's and Piper's, "Take those wet clothes off," he instructed, his panic passing slightly, "I'll get the dogs back in."

He went back outside and shooed the animals into the doghouse, making sure they had water and food before closing the door. The light snowfall was quickly turning into  a storm, dark clouds rolling across the sky and obscuring the lights. Michael didn't want to think about what would've happened if Octavian had gotten caught in that. He went back inside, methodically locked the door and then went into the main room. Octavian was shaking trying to light the stove with trembling hands. 

"I'll do it," Michael shooed him away and started to shove logs of wood inside the stove. The fire roared to life in minutes, filling the room with warmth. Octavian was sitting up, struggling with his clothes. Michael started to relax as he realised that the boy was safe now. He eased himself out of his winter clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor for now, "Let me help," he said softly.

"I-I can do it," Octavian protested, pulling his jumper up. He got it tangled around his arms and it got stuck around his head. Michael had to fight a smile as he freed the boy. He helped him out of his undershirt and wet trousers and boots, trying to not stare at the boy's pale body. He'd seen him change plenty of times before, so he didn't know why suddenly he was so aware of every mole and every freckle and every bone on Octavian. 

"What's wrong? Why couldn't you move?" Michael asked. Octavian looked away in embarrassment,

"I...my legs are all c-cramped up. And my heart won't stop beating really hard. I-It's hard to breathe." 

"Fuck," Michael swore. Piper would've known what to do, but Piper wasn't here, "I-I don't-"

"I just need to lie down," Octavian squeezed his eyes shut, "I'll b-be fine," he was still shaking. Michael helped him get under the blankets and then for good measure pulled the covers off the bunk beds as well, piling them on top of Octavian to make sure he didn't freeze to death. Octavian was facing the wall, practically buried, and Michael did something stupid. Whenever Octavian was in pain Piper would always hold him, so Michael slipped beneath the covers.

"W-What are you doing?" the boy stuttered and tried to turn, but instead winced. Michael wrapped his arms around the boy's skinny waist, pressing his body against his back. Octavian inhaled sharply and Michael wondered if he was doing the right thing, "M-Michael..."

"Piper does this doesn't she?" Michael asked quietly. The oven was filling the room with a dim glow, "It helps doesn't it?"

Octavian didn't reply, just took one of Michael's hands off of his hip and pressed it against his chest, right above his heart. Michael could feel the erratic pounding of the organ against his skin, and Octavian clung onto his hand. 

"You must think I'm pathetic," Octavian whispered, his hands tightening on Michael's one. 

"No," the man said softly, "I think you're completely insane, but no, not pathetic," Octavian didn't say anything so Michael added, "and I think you're cute as a bug's ear."

Octavian let out a quiet huff of laughter but it quickly died away, "I didn't mean anything by that kiss. It was just a joke," he said, trying to sound casual but Michael had his hand over his heart and  _felt_ it skip a beat. He felt stupidly proud because of it, "It's getting better."

"Good," Michael smiled. Octavian twisted in his arms so they were face to face, suddenly dangerously close. His eyelashes were as pale as his hair, his eyes full of...something, that Michael couldn't pinpoint. He knew it was wrong - all his life he was told that a man being with a man was unnatural, and he had never been tempted...until now. He couldn't bring himself to let go of Octavian. He felt weirdly dizzy. Octavian seemed startled at how close they were, his eyes searching Michael's face as if he were lost. 

"Your lips are blue," Michael murmured and then leaned forward to capture them. He told himself that he was kissing Octavian to warm him up, but when the blonde parted his lips beneath his with a soft sigh that excuse melted from his head. It was stiffing hot beneath all the blankets and their legs were tangled together. Michael hadn't been so intimate with someone for a long time - his last encounter was with his neighbour that might or might've not been a prostitute. It had been fast and sloppy and entirely too unsatisfying. But this was different, because Octavian and Michael had hours, days, weeks. They didn't have to rush - it was just them and the snow. 

Heat started to build up inside Michael, and his blood rushed south. He angled his hips away from Octavian when he felt his cock stir to life, scared to freak him out. He felt guilty for his thoughts straying so much; after all they were just kissing. It was slow kissing too, their lips sliding together tentatively, tongues shyly brushing each other. But just having Octavian so close and almost naked was enough for Michael. 

Octavian's fingers wound themselves in Michael's hair and he pulled the man closer with a sudden sense of urgency. The kiss turned a bit more sloppy and desperate, Michael settled his hands on Octavian's sharp hips, 

"Does it still hurt?" he murmured, pulling away so they could catch some breath. 

"Idiot," Octavian grumbled. His eyes were darker than normal, his pupils blown. Michael had no idea how someone could look so innocent and so wicked at the same time but it really wasn't helping him. His pants started to feel too constricting for comfort. He wanted to ask if it was bad that he wanted to ravish Octavian, but the boy seemed to be thinking similar thoughts because he drew Michael in for another heated kiss while his hand went down to Michael's crotch with no further ado. Michael's grabbed the blonde's wrist when he brushed against his erection,

"We shouldn't," he said, forcefully pulling away from Octavian, "it's wrong."

"It doesn't feel wrong," Octavian mumbled. Michael wanted to argue with him, he wanted his resolve to be strong. But their outpost was the most private, secure place in the world. If he ever wanted to do something that was frowned upon in society, now was the time. But it wasn't just that; Michael didn't want some random boy to experiment with, he wanted  _Octavian,_ and not just for this either, for everything. Michael wanted to protect him. 

"It doesn't feel wrong," Michael agreed and leaned in for another kiss.

*** 

He was completely infatuated with Octavian, and he didn't even try to hide it. For two weeks the boys had the outpost all to themselves, but instead of getting tired of each other's company they were almost stupidly taken with one another. They checked the readings on the machines and send Morse code messages to London, and marked things on maps and wrote accounts about the Aurora Borealis. They argued and took the dogs out for walks in the snow. They fucked by the light of the stove. 

After two weeks a fishing boat brought Piper and Annabeth back. The brunette looked pale but a lot better than she had been when she and Annabeth initially left. Michael tried not to feel disappointed as the girls made themselves at home once again. He and Octavian not only had to abandon the bed they had been sharing but they also had to pretend that nothing happened between them. 

A week after the girls' return everyone was settling back into their old routine. Then the sun made its first appearance. It was short, barely a lightening of the sky on the horizon but the four explorers stood side by side on the bay, watching it with bated breath. After such a long time in the night the sun started to seem like a myth.

A few days later Michael woke up earlier than everyone else to a sliver of sunlight peeking out from between the gaps in the curtain. His stomach flipped at the brightness; It marked the end of something, but the start of something new. Michael had gotten so used to the dark that it was weird to think that it was  _actual_ morning, for the first time in months. 

Annabeth and Piper had they arms sloppily around each other, their hair tangled together on the pillows and glimmering in the sun. Michael could hear their soft breaths. In a week they'd pack up and leave, abandoning the shack for the next group of explorers. That thought made Michael sad. He'd spend Christmas back in London, probably alone. He doubted Octavian would want to come to his dingy little flat. The man laid in his small bed, staring up at the bottom of Octavian's bunk and thinking about how much he didn't want to leave. The exploration felt like a literal dream, and Michael didn't want to wake up. 

Creaking alerted him to Octavian waking up, and moment later the boy was climbing down from his bunk. He was ruffled and sleepy and gave Piper and Annabeth's sleeping forms an uneasy look before climbing into Michael's bed and curling up next to the wall. Michael smiled and turned to him, shielding him out of sight with his larger body. They had to be quiet. Michael's hands came to cup Octavian's face and the boy tiredly leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He was sweet like this, sweet and sleepy with none of his snark and sarcasm. Michael kissed him quickly, and then again, and again, and then he pressed their foreheads together. Octavian snuggled up to him, catching the last few moments of sleep together. Michael watched him and stroked his cheek and his heart ached with a sudden want. He didn't want Octavian to leave him. 

"I love you," the words slipped out before Michael could stop them. They were the softest whisper but Octavian's eyes snapped open, widening in shock. He held his breath and stared at the bigger man. Michael's heart clench but he didn't try to take the words back - there was no point, he had meant them. Instead he kissed Octavian's forehead, his heart pounding, "Don't say anything," he murmured, barely audible. Of course as always Octavian didn't listen to him. 

"I love y-you too," he whispered shakily. A slow clap sounded and Michael stomach flipped. He whirled around and found that both Annabeth and Piper were sitting up, grinning like giddy school-girls and staring at them with bright, fond eyes.

"Finally!" Annabeth exclaimed, smiling. 


	5. Jackson Abbey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 1900 Percy Jackson, the reach heir to Jackson Abbey, meets Luke Castellan, a poor stable-boy. The two become unlikely friends, growing up side by side. Percy never thinks that he could have any feelings for the boy, but an engagement changes all of it.  
> Inspired by; Downton Abbey  
> Percy's and Luke's love story is based a little bit on the one of Sibyl Crawley and Thomas Branson.

**JACKSON ABBEY**

 

 **April 1900**  

Perseus Jackson, the five year old heir to Jackson Abbey, was running down the corridor of the mansion. He was a chubby, short child, with wild black hair and big blue eyes that always made everyone coo at him as if he was a cherub out of some Greek poem. He was currently busy running away from his nanny, his bare feet sinking into the rich carpet of the corridor. He stumbled down the winding staircase, his chubby legs aching to keep up, his arms pumping. His cheeks were flushed and he grinned as he ran through the familiar hallways of his home, his nanny yelling after him somewhere in the distance. Percy zoomed past Bob, the butler. The man wasn't the brightest of men and he smiled as the child bumbled past without attempting to stop him, his white hair sticking up in all directions.

"Morning, master!" the man yelled after the running boy.

"Morning, Bobby!" Percy yelled back, voice high pitched and giddy. He ran out of the front door right into the sunlit back yard. In front of him stretched the rich, large garden of Jackson Abbey. It was surrounded by a low wall and past it the field ran all the way to the line of trees that was the forest that Percy's family also owned. Of course, he was too young to know that then, and in all honesty he didn't care much. 

The sun was warm on his face. He was still in his nightshirt and trousers as he managed to escape from his nanny before she finished dressing him. His bare feet sank into the grass sprinkled with mildew and the boy wriggled his toes in joy. Noises drifted towards him from the Abbey; the milkman near the servants entrance passing over the bottles to Rhea the cook. A maid threw a window open somewhere on the third floor and the curtains ruffled in the early summer breeze. Percy stared at the sky with a big smile, feeling happy and content. Summer was finally here, his favourite season. 

"Percy Jackson!" his nanny poked her head out of the window on the first floor and threatened the boy with her first, "come back here at once!"

Percy just giggled and continued on his way, pushing past bushes of peonies and roses that towered over him. A butterfly took flight as Percy startled it and a hedgehog darted into the undergrowth. The child stopped his mad escape to take a snail off the garden path and put it in the safety of the bushes, away from the deadly feet of humans or beaks of birds, then he darted back into the greenery.

Percy didn't feel like getting dressed and going down to breakfast that morning - he wanted to have fun in the garden. He was almost clear in the field, well on his way into the forest when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his bare foot. The boy tumbled forward, scraping his knees on the pathway. For a second he just lay in the grass, blinking, and then he started to tear up. The pain in his foot was intense and when the boy sat up and looked down on it he saw that it was wet with blood. He had cut himself on a sharp stone. Percy sniffled once, then twice, and then he burst out crying. He clutched his leg and bawled, lower lip quivering, not knowing what to do with himself. 

"Why are you crying?" a boy had been walking down the pathway and Percy didn't see him from where he was curled up, crying. He tried to stop his tears as he peered at the newcomer. He was taller than Percy and older too, maybe eight. His hair was sandy and his eyes dark blue. He was dressed like a typical stable boy; brown dungarees and a cap pulled over his hair. He smelled like horses and in his hand he held a green apple.

"I c-cut myself," Percy mumbled. The boy shook his head and crouched next to him,

"Well you should wear shoes, dummy," he took Percy's foot in his hands and turned it carefully, "It's not deep, you'll be fine."

"B-But it h-hurts," Percy stammered.

"Don't whine, it isn't deep," the blonde repeated with a roll of the eyes. Percy wasn't used to people talking to him like that; usually they treated him with kindness and respect, but this boy didn't seem to know who Percy was. The little Lord swallowed down his tears,

"I'm Percy Jackson," he said. The blonde got up and dusted off his knees,

"So?" the raised an eyebrow. Percy felt himself flush. Something about the boy made him want to impress him; maybe it was the fact that he was older. Percy decided not to act like a baby anymore and stumbled to his feet, trying to avoid standing on his hurt foot. The grass was wet with blood. He sniffled, "Here," the blonde boy seemed to take pity on him finally. He shoved his apple into his pocket and crouched down, "get on my back, I'll carry you."

Percy wanted to protest and show how strong he was, but honestly he was staring to get hungry and his foot hurt so he didn't complain, instead climbing onto the boy's back and looping his chubby arms around his neck. With some difficulty the older boy hoisted him up and then started trudging back to the house. By the time they reached the abbey the blonde was out of breath. There was a small group of people by the servants entrance, Percy's slightly hysterical nanny at its head.

"Percy!" she yelled when she saw the older boy set him down. She ran towards them.

"T-Thank you," Percy stammered to the older boy. The blonde smiled,

"My name is Luke. Luke Castellan," he reached into his pocket and pushed the green apple into Percy's hand just before his nanny swept him up into her arms and started fretting about his cut foot, carrying him back to the Abbey with ease that the seven year old had lacked.

***

**December 1902**

Percy fidgeted through the Christmas songs, stuck between his mother and father. He was dressed in his best, most uncomfortable Sunday clothes and the seven year old wanted nothing more than to get out of them. The ceiling high Christmas tree twinkled with lights as the family and friends gathered in saloon to celebrate the coming of Christ. Close by Percy was his older brother Tyson, settled in his wheelchair, mouth open wide as he sang happily along with the adults. Percy continued to fidget until finally the last overlong hymn came to an end. The Lords and Ladies gathered in the room started to clap as footmen weaved between them with trays full of sparkling glasses of champagne. When Sally, Percy's mother, turned away from him to say hello to her sister, the boy slipped away.

He had long ago abandoned his earlier ways of just running and hoping he didn't get caught. Now he was more stealthy about it. He snuck to the servant's staircase, making sure that none were coming up or down the stairs, and then descended. He could smell deliciousness wafting from the kitchen and he made the mistake of stopping right outside it an inhaling.

"And what have we here?" the head cook, Hestia, was suddenly at the door, hands on her hips. She was a middle aged woman with red hair streaked with grey and laugh lines etched deep into her face, "Young Master Perseus, you're not hoping to steal from my kitchen, are you?"

"N-No ma'am," Percy shook his head quickly, "I just...I wondered if you have some of those delicious pies left over."

Hestia threw her head back and laughed, wiping her hands on her white apron stained with grave, "For you? Always," she invited Percy into the kitchen. It was one of his favourite places; it was always bustling with life as the cooks and kitchen maids whirled around in their everyday life of preparing food. The smells were incredible, and it was always warm, even on a night as cold as this.

"Hello Percy," Demeter - a young maid with corn coloured hair - came over and kissed the boy's cheek, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Percy said back with a grin. Hestia came back with a mince pie in her hand,

"There you go Perseus," she said, "enjoy, and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Percy said as the woman went back to her pots and pans. He looked at the pie in her hands, "I was going to save it for later...," he told Demeter. The girl smiled and pulled out a napkin from her apron pocket. She offered it to Percy,

"Wrap it in that," she offered. The boy did so eagerly,

"Thank you!" he said, already running out of the kitchen, "Thank you!"

He made it through the servant's corridors unstopped, cradling the pie to his chest, and soon enough he was bursting outside through the servant's entrance. The garden and field were blanketed in snow. An automobile pulled out of the driveway and rumbled down to the forest. The wind bit at Percy's expose skin and he shivered, hoping for a jacket. He forgot about all that when he saw a familiar figure leaning against the wall of the house. Eagerly, Percy waddled towards him.

"Luke!" he called, clutching the pie protectively. The blonde looked up at Percy and grinned. His cap was dusted with snow, a ratty scarf wrapped around his neck, "Merry Christmas!" Percy said breathlessly.

"Merry Christmas," Luke reached out and ruffled Percy's hair and the younger boy beamed at him,

"I brought you something from the kitchens!" he said, holding out the mince pie to the blonde. The boy eyed it suspiciously (probably because of the multiple pranks Percy had played on him before) but eventually decided that the boy wasn't mean enough to try anything on Christmas Eve. He carefully unfolded the napkin and Percy relished in the way that his eyes lit up when he saw the pie. Without a word the boy wolfed it down in three bites and in no time the pie was gone. The ten year old grinned at Percy with crumbs around his mouth, "Thanks Perce!" He pulled the smaller boy into a tight hug and then pulled away, "Wait...I almost forgot - I have something for you too!" he reached into the pocket of his tattered coat and produced a perfect green apple. 

"Thank you," Percy felt warmth spread in his chest. It was like an inside joke - every time Percy was sad, or it was a special occasion, Luke would bring him a green apple, just like the day they met. Percy took it gratefully and munched down happily, the juice running down his chin and dripping onto his shirt. His mother would kill him for ruining it later but right now Percy didn't care as he stood next to Luke in the snow, celebrating their second Christmas together.

 **October**   **1905**

Percy stared at his blood-soaked hands, sitting on the front steps of the Abbey. It was no sight a ten year old should ever witness; blood on someone's hands. Outside, in the grey afternoon, multiple people were talking, their voices high pitched and agitated as to what just happened. They kept glancing at Percy but none made a move to speak to him. Until his grandmother arrived in an automobile. Rhea Jackson, the widowed Lady Orthys, was still a beauty, her dark hair barely greying. Her son, Poseidon, tried to speak to her but she shooed him to the side, bee-lining straight at Percy, noticing that the child was sitting alone. 

"Percy," she said softly, but the boy didn't react, "Percy child, we need to wash your hands."

"I-It just came down," Percy's eyes were wet with tears. He remembered the falcon that the men had been showing off, its crooked beak as it swooped down, "He didn't e-even see it."

Luke had been standing by the gentlemen that had come to visit the Jackson's from Wales, some distant cousins. The thirteen year old had stood straight as the men ignored him, ever so often passing him a cage with a falcon or a tough leather glove. They were whistling and laughing, the ladies watching them appreciatively. They were trying to teach Percy how to correctly command the birds, and the boy had been exhilarated. Percy didn't even remember what happened properly - everyone had gotten excited, they were shouting, the young sons of the gentlemen thought it'd be funny to throw stones at the bird. And suddenly the falcon was perturbed, squawking at them, and before anyone could react it swooped down, right onto unsuspecting Luke. One of its talons had raked across the boy's face.

Percy remembered the blood and the look of shock on Luke's face. He remembered grabbing the boy before he fell and all the blood dripping onto his hands. They had packed Luke into one of the automobiles and driven him to the hospital and Percy was left behind with his blood stained hands and raw panic in his throat. His grandmother tried to get him to get up but the boy wasn't reacting, his hands trembling.  _What if he's dead?_ he kept thinking,  _what if he's dead?_

Rhea gave up on trying to move her grandson and instead sat down next to him on the steps, her bones creaking, her skirts flowing over the stairs.

"He'll be alright," she told him kindly, "face wounds always bleed a lot. They say that it wasn't deep."

Percy remembered the day he met Luke for the first time, and how the boy had said the same thing about the cut on his foot. He had been right - the cut healed fast and Percy forgot about it in days. The thought that Luke would be alright eased his panic a little bit and he allowed his grandmother to lead him back inside the house.

Two days later Percy woke up from an uneasy sleep with the autumn golden light spilling in from the window. There was a blob of green on his blankets and for a second Percy didn't know what it was as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. Then everything came into focus and he saw what it was - a green apple lying at the foot of the bed. Percy smiled.

**May 1908**

When Percy turned thirteen he lost his chubbiness and  _some_ of his bad ideas. He was surprised to find that at dinner parties girls wanted to sit next to him, and even  _dance_ with him. His father was talking about marriages but Percy wasn't interested in all of that, at least not yet. He was still a little crazy; running around the Abbey and playing pranks on the servants. 

After a boring lecture from his father about how he shouldn't throw cake at his cousins Percy slipped outside to get some fresh, spring air. The gardens were full of colour, blooming to life after a harsh and snowy winter. The gardeners were among the flowers, tending them carefully. A maid walked past with a basket full of clean laundry. A boy was leaning against the stables, smoking  a cigarette.

" _Luke_ ," Percy stalked towards him, glaring, "I told you to stop smoking!"

The blonde grinned at him. At sixteen he was the object of dreams for many girls. His rugged good-looks and charm went hand in hand, making all the maids swoon over him. Even now, dressed in his peasant clothes with a cap over his head he was handsomer than Percy ever hoped to be, despite with the ragged, pink scar running down his cheek. Somehow that added to his appeal, giving him an edge.

"Thanks for gracing me with your presence your majesty," the blonde grinned, letting out a cloud of grey smoke into the afternoon air. Percy crossed his arms over his chest and gave Luke an unamused look. He was wearing a brown jacket and tall shoes, ready for his horse-riding lesson. He loved horses, just as much as he loved Luke not coughing his lungs out because of the cigarettes.

"You're going to get lung cancer and die," Percy said, trying to snatch the cigarette out of the blonde's hand. But Luke was three years older and a good head taller and with a charismatic grin he held the death stick above his head, watching as Percy tried to futilely reach it. 

"I'm sixteen I'm not a child, and you're not my ma," Luke put the cigarette back into his mouth and inhaled, "besides work is stressful, something you probably don't know about."

"Don't throw it in my face," Percy frowned, "you know it's not my fault that I get to do horse-riding and history instead of carrying food."

"Oh, poor you," Luke rolled his eyes and then, before Percy could react, darted forward and grabbed the boy by the chin. Percy went to say something and Luke used that moment to quickly take a puff of his cigarette. He slotted his and Percy's mouths together and blew the smoke into his mouth. The boy gasped, accidentally inhaling, and flailed backwards, coughing violently as his chest burned. Luke snickered, looking pleased with himself as Percy wheezed, clutching his chest, eyes watering. 

"Y-You a-asshole," he coughed, "W-Why did you d-do that?"

"To see how you'd react," Luke shrugged gleefully. Percy's heart pounded and once he got over the shock of having smoke scratch at his lungs he realised that Luke had  _almost_ kissed him. That thought should've disgusted him - Percy wasn't interested in boys  _or_ girls to be honest, he never wanted to kiss anyone. But Luke's mouth on his had felt kind of nice and now Percy couldn't help but blush.

"I hate you," he told Luke but the blonde just winked at him. In order to avoid any other weird occurrences with his best friend Percy walked away, leaving Luke alone to smoke against the stables. All the way to the field where the horses were waiting for him Percy couldn't stop thinking about the stupid almost-kiss. He kept replaying it in his head, but he had no idea why. It wasn't even a real kiss, just a brush of lips, a part of Luke's prank.

"Master Percy!" Chiron, Percy's equestrian teacher, smiled when he saw him approaching. At his side were two beautiful horses. One of them was a gorgeous ebony stallion, Percy's favourite called Blackjack. But where usually Percy would be taken by just the horse right now he was distracted, and not only by Luke's weird behaviour. Standing by Chiron's side was a girl. She looked to be Percy's age, with hair more blonder than Luke's pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in a typical horse-riding dress, a tall hat on top of her head. Her eyes were angry and grey and narrowed at Percy. The boy blinked at her in surprise.

"Master Percy, this is Lady Annabeth Chase, your third cousin. She will be living in the Abbey for the near future with her Lord father, and will join us during your riding lessons," Chiron inclined his head at the girl, "Lady Annabeth, this is Perseus, the future Lord of Jackson Abbey."

"Pleased to meet you," said Annabeth, sounding like she wasn't pleased at all.

"Um...pleased to meet you too," Percy collected himself quickly. He took Annabeth's hand in his and went to kiss it but she snatched it back. Percy flushed but Chiron ignored her rudeness. 

"Let's get on with the lesson, shall we?"

Percy had the weird feeling that he and Annabeth would never be friends.

*** 

Percy and Annabeth were great friends, Percy decided a month later. Despite the girl's initial dislike towards him the two couldn't  _not_ like each other. Annabeth was unlike all the girls he knew; she didn't scream when she saw bugs and didn't cry at stupid romantic books and wasn't afraid to hit Percy upside the head if he said something foolish. All his life Percy was treated like he was made of glass, everyone was always careful not to upset him. But then Luke came along, the only person who treated him normally. And now Annabeth was like that too. 

They did everything together - went to dinner, played golf, went hunting. They quickly grew close and everyone seemed to think it was sweet and acceptable. Except Luke. 

About a month after Annabeth's arrival Percy met Luke at the stables after dinner. It was a cold night, closer to winter than autumn, and Percy was risking getting caught out of bed to see his friend, but he didn't care. Since the 'kiss' incident he hadn't seen the other boy as much, though he refused to accept the fact that he was avoiding him. But Luke had caught him in one of the hallways earlier that day and quickly asked for Percy to come see him later. So now Percy was here.

"You're avoiding me," Luke's voice drifted from the shadows of the stable. Percy's heart started to beat faster at the fright he got. He couldn't see Luke. 

"No I'm not. I'm busy...with Annabeth."

"Oh is she your best friend now?" the blonde stepped out of the shadows and his face was angry, his scar more noticeable than usual. 

"She's not," Percy said guiltily, "but I like her, and you're always busy with work-"

"It kind of hurts to be replaced," Luke said bitterly, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. He put it behind his ear and then reached for his packet of matches. In a sudden rush of anger and irritation, Percy knocked it out of his hand.

"I told you to  _stop that."_

"You have a lot of power,  _Lord_ Perseus," Luke stepped closer to Percy threateningly, their chests brushing, "you can command me to do a lot of things; but you can't tell me not to smoke. That's my  _freedom."_  
  
Percy's lower lip trembled, "You're fired."

"Unfortunately you can't do that either," Luke seethed. Then he leaned down and kissed Percy. It was more of a hit than a kiss really, an angry crash of lips. Percy's heart fluttered in his chest and then his instincts kicked in. He punched Luke in the face, knocking him backwards and wiping his mouth furiously, cheeks burning. Luke's own cheek was red when he glared at Percy. He also looked hurt, as if Percy had betrayed him. That made the boy feel horrible, and his anger evaporated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I don't like you or anything," Luke spat, "I just wanted to see your reaction."

"I didn't replace you. You're still my best friend," Percy said softly. Luke exhaled, his shoulders slumping,

"Right."

"I mean it," Percy said fiercely. Luke smiled a little,

"Right," he pulled out a green apple out of his pocket and offered it to Percy, like a peace offering. 

***

**September 1912**

"We wear no mark; we belong to every class; we permeate every class of the community from the highest to the lowest!" the woman on the rise proclaimed, "and so you see in the woman's civil war the dear men of my country are discovering it is absolutely impossible to deal with it: you cannot locate it, and you cannot stop it!"

The crowd gathered around her cheered wildly. Percy was exhilarated - he might've not been a woman but unlike the rest of his conservative family he supported rights for women and the Suffrage movement, hence why he was here; in a crowd of people protesting against inequality. The day was grey and the town square busy and it all added to the wild excitement of going against the majority, of standing up for something. 

On Percy's left Annabeth cheered, fist in the air. They were both seventeen and had fully lost the weird ungainliness they had when they met. Annabeth was a  _real_ woman now, with long blonde hair that flowed down her back and a fierceness in her face. On Percy's right was Luke, who was now twenty, a stubble on his chiselled jaw from not shaving for a day. In-between them Percy felt the most comfortable and his voice was hoarse from cheering alongside them. The woman on-stage continued her speech but a whistle interrupted her.

"Shit,  _police,"_ Luke swore. His hand was already on Percy's wrist, ready to pull him to safety. Percy noticed that he did that a lot; touched Percy when it wasn't necessary. And somehow the boy didn't mind. The friendship he felt for Annabeth and the friendship he felt for Luke were completely different. Annabeth was like his sister - someone that he always bickered with but could rely on. With Luke it was more than that - Percy had grown up alongside him, and sometimes in the dark of night weird thoughts would come to his head, thoughts that started with  _what if..._

Percy tried not to think about that though - he was embarrassed to see Luke that way but deep down he blamed it on the boy himself, for giving him all those random kisses. He did it a lot, and often too, almost like a casual thing, a kiss on Percy's lips, quick and brief that made Percy's stomach twist. He didn't have the guts to tell the boy what those displays of affection were doing to him, and also a part of him was scared that that'd mean that Luke would stop. 

Percy, Annabeth and Luke dashed through the crowd of rapidly dispersing protesters. A wall of policemen barged into them, blowing whistles and arresting people, shoving them into walls. Percy couldn't get arrested. He might've been wearing common clothing, like Luke and Annabeth, but sooner of later they'd figure out who he was...Percy could see his mother's disappointed face in his mind. 

The trio dashed into a side-street, sprinting like they never had before. Luke was gripping Percy's wrist, making sure he was still with him. 

"Stop!" a policeman bellowed behind them, " _Stop!"_

It only made the three ran faster, feet slapping on the wet pavement. They spilled onto one of the main streets, full of automobiles and people hurrying to and from shops. They shoved past the outraged men and women, and suddenly they were giggling uncontrollably, the police officer lost somewhere far behind them. They were on a high and didn't know how to come down as they tumbled into their parked automobile. Annabeth threw herself across the back seats, laughing freely, cheeks flushed with happiness. Luke was grinning at Percy from the driver's seat and Percy knew what came next - he anticipated it. 

Luke leaned over and kissed him, chaste and sweet and Percy desperately wanted it to be longer, almost reached for the other boy. Annabeth just continued to giggle. 

Their good mood evaporated when they pulled into the driveway at Jackson Abbey. Percy's grandmother hurried outside immediately, hair and dress flying as she practically ripped the door of the car open,

"Perseus Jackson!" she fumed, "What do you think you're doing?! Your father explicitly told you to not go to these rallies anymore," her eyes fell on Annabeth, "Lady Chase," she said in cold disapproval, "I expected better of you. Both of you, go to see Lord Jackson at once."

She ignored Luke. He was invisible to the family, just another servant. Percy gave him a panicked look and then followed Annabeth into the house. 

That afternoon Annabeth and Percy were informed that because of their bad behaviour and to learn some responsibility, they'd be married.

**July 1913**

The worst part was that Luke wasn't there. 

Screaming didn't help, arguments and pleading and bribing, nothing changed Lord Jackson's mind - Annabeth and Percy were to be married, and that was final. It seemed like just a threat though, for a long time. Percy, Annabeth and Luke continued to go to rallies and go about their lives, until one day Sally Jackson told them the date was set. It didn't feel real.

Annabeth looked beautiful waking down the aisle, like a doll. Her snowy dress lay on her perfectly and with her golden locks she looked like an angel. A pale, trembling angel with big, scared eyes, but an angel nonetheless. Percy didn't want an angel - he wanted a rugged, sandy-haired servant that smoked cigarettes, stole kisses from him and gave him green apples instead of apologies. 

Annabeth took his hands, already in front of him, and Percy smiled at her palely. It could be worse - he could be marrying a stranger, or someone he hated. Instead he was marrying a girl who was like him, his best friend. Seeing his parents drawn, tight faces Percy knew this was for the best...if by any wild chance Luke had the same confusing feelings for him they wouldn't be able to be together anyway. This was for the best.

***

He was on top of Annabeth, and it was the most uncomfortable thing ever. Percy was always told that his wedding night would be full of love and passion and although the first one was there, the second one was lacking. They were only eighteen and inexperienced, and honestly they didn't want to sleep with each other even if they were now officially husband and wife.

"I don't think the Sahara desert is dryer than I am now," Annabeth deadpanned after Percy pulled away from their half-hearted kiss. Thankfully they were still dressed so Percy didn't have to check. 

"I'm offended," he joked and gave up, rolling off her. They laid on _their_ bed in _their_ bedroom, the one they had been given once they were married in the Abbey. Percy already missed his old room. The two friends laid side by side, staring at the crimson canopy. Candles burned sadly around the room. 

"I don't think I could get it up," Percy admitted quietly, "not right now."

"It's alright," Annabeth patted his cheek and sat up. She was out of her wedding gown just in her undergarments, her hair dishevelled. Percy watched as she stood up and shrugged on a nightgown, "There's someone waiting for me downstairs anyway."

Percy sat up abruptly. It was coming up to midnight, everyone  _should_ be asleep, "What?!" he gaped at her, "What do you mean?"

She shrugged and then bit her lip, "You don't mind, do you?"

"No of course not," Percy assured her. He looked away, "It's...it's not Luke is it."

"It's Piper from the kitchen," Annabeth reassured him. Percy smiled at her gratefully and plopped back onto the pillows,

"Well go then," he said tiredly, "have your wedding night my love, I'll cover for you."

She came over and kissed his forehead, "Night, Perce."

Percy laid in silence with his eyes closed long after she left. He knew that further down the line there'd be pressure for him and Annabeth to have children, but they still had time. Until then they didn't have to have sex - nothing had to change. That came as a relief. Apart from that little issue Percy knew that Annabeth would be the best companion he could ever have...well, second best. There was always Luke but that was impossible. 

Something hit Percy's leg suddenly and his eyes flew open. He sat up, heart pounding, but the room was empty, the door opened to the darkness of the hallway.

"Annabeth?" Percy whispered, the hair on the back of his neck standing. He stared intensely into the doorway but it was empty. Swallowing hard, Percy looked down at the object that hit his thigh. It was a green apple. The boy exhaled in relief and grinned, "You can come out now, idiot."

With an identical grin Luke slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. He looked perfectly awake despite the fact that he was in his nightclothes, hair messy. It looked as if he spent hours tossing and turning in bed, unable to get to sleep.

"Annabeth called, and I am here," the man mock-bowed.

"I'm afraid you just missed her," Percy teased, "Why are you here?"

Luke shrugged, "I was in the kitchen. Couldn't sleep. You won't believe who I bumped into."

"Piper and Annabeth?"

"Bingo," Luke came and sat down on the edge of Percy's bed. The boy realised how weird it would look; a servant coming into a Lord's room late into the night, hours after his wedding, while the Lord's wife was sneaking around downstairs with a maid. It didn't matter what it looked like though. Luke's expression softened as he looked at Percy, "Are you alright?" he asked. Percy shrugged,

"Annabeth isn't a bad wife."

"But she's not here," Luke summarised.

"I don't think I _want_ her to be here," by 'here' Percy meant the bed, "I can't imagine sleeping with her."

Luke scooted a bit closer and didn't say anything, his eyes trained on Percy's face. The boy clenched his hands in the blankets to ground himself, because his heart was suddenly trying to escape his chest. A shiver went down his spine when he noted how close the other man was to him, and moving closer still. 

"A-Aren't you going to congratulate me o-on my marriage?" he asked shakily when Luke was just inches away. The man's blue eyes slid to Percy's lips,

"Congratulations on your marriage," he whispered. He went to kiss Percy but something inside the boy finally snapped and he turned his head so that Luke's lips landed on his cheek. He tried not to feel bitter disappointment, after all he was the one who stopped the kiss from happening.

"You need to stop doing that," he muttered, "you can't just go around kissing me all the time. Someone will notice." 

"I don't-"

"I know," Percy interrupted and turned so he was facing Luke again. Their noses were almost brushing together and Percy had to fight the shakiness in his voice, "I know you don't do it because you like me...you do it b-because it has something to do with my reactions, and I understand but-"

"I do it because I'm in love with you."

Percy's heart painfully skipped a beat, "O-Oh."

This time when Luke went to kiss him Percy didn't move,  _couldn't_ move. It wasn't like the quick pecks from before, or the smoke kiss that started it all. It was long and hungry but somehow still slow and almost lazy. Luke's hand came to trace Percy's jaw, inviting him to kiss back or to pull away, and the Lord was having a hard time keeping up with all of it. He tried to wrap his head around what was happening but as he tentatively kissed Luke back he knew that it didn't matter anymore. He didn't have to think of a reason why he was so happy that Luke was there with him right now; he just was.

The older man pushed Percy back onto the mountain of pillows without a warning and climbed on top of him, blocking out the light of the candles.

"What are you doing?" Percy was startled at how breathless he sounded. Luke stroked his face, not pulling away further than he had to in order to speak.

"It's your wedding night," his voice was weirdly serious as he stared at Percy intensely. Percy knew what it meant, knew what Luke wanted to  _do,_ but he didn't mind. In fact he felt a peculiar kind of warmth in his stomach that he hadn't had after an hour of kissing Annabeth. What the two of them had tried so hard to feel Luke managed to ignite in him with a simple kiss. 

"What if someone walks in?" Percy asked, lips brushing Luke's.

"God, I hope they don't," the blonde smiled, "I have no backup plan," he kissed Percy again.

"B-But why?" the kisses turned feverish, messy, and between each one Percy tried to speak, "Why now?"

"I don't know," Luke admitted.

They kissed again, more sloppy and desperate, carelessly. They didn't care if they fit together perfectly, they just tried to get closer to each other, impossibly so. Luke's lips were on Percy's neck before the boy even noticed, and he shivered at the sensation as the blonde caged him in with his arms. As if on instinct Percy wrapped his legs around the man's waist, drawing him nearer. 

He didn't think his wedding night would be like this, in the arms of a person who wasn't his wife, in the arms of another  _man._ Luke's fingers undid the buttons of the same shirt Percy got married in, his fingertips brushed a trail down Percy's body, searching, memorising. It was hard to concentrate on just one thing. Percy felt weirdly dizzy with each of Luke's touches. He couldn't think about anything other than Luke, he forgot all about Annabeth. 

One of Luke's hands brushed invisible patterns into the skin of Percy's hip while his other hand carefully slipped the boy's wedding ring off his finger, placing it on the night stand. He pressed deliberate kisses down the line of Percy's chest, all the way down to his stomach. He was going slowly, lazily taking off Percy's clothes, taking his time as to not overwhelm the boy. Every time Percy felt nervous or dizzy he'd grip Luke's hand and the man would slow down and kiss him.

They made love for hours, until Percy was so lost in Luke that he didn't care if anybody walked in anymore. The night was lightening outside by the time they finally finished, wrapped up in each other's sweaty, naked bodies. The sheets were ruined, but that was a good thing - at least there'd be proof that Percy and Annabeth consummated the marriage. When the candles started to wink out Luke looked different to Percy somehow.

His eyes were half-lidded and tired, his mouth pulled into a tiny, blissful smile, hair falling into his eyes and half-covering his scar. Percy traced it with his fingers as the blonde's arms wrapped around him loosely, as if he wasn't afraid that the boy would disappear anymore.

"I wish I could've married you," Luke admitted quietly. Percy could hear the birds singing their morning songs outside - Luke would have to leave soon. He hated to think about how cold the bed would be after. He had no idea how he had managed to live his life without having Luke touch and kiss and love him the way he did that night, "I need to leave," the blonde said, as if reading Percy's thoughts. The dark haired boy wrapped his arms around him suddenly, gripping onto him fiercely. Luke chuckled into his shoulder, "Hey. I'm not  _actually_ going anywhere...I'll just be downstairs."

"I'd rather you be here," Percy said quietly, and they both knew that wasn't possible. Luke brushed his fingers through the boy's hair, 

"Me too."

The door clicked open and both boys flinched before relaxing at seeing the familiar gleam of Annabeth's golden hair.

"Just me," she whispered, a pile of covers in her arms. Luke sighed and untangled himself from a mournful Percy, quietly getting dressed in the semi-darkness. Percy felt sad and lonely, but satisfied at the same time. It was a weird combination. Annabeth didn't say anything as she changed the covers. Luke came and leaned over Percy. He kissed him once, short and sweet, the way he used to do before Percy knew he loved him, and then padded out of the room.

Annabeth climbed beneath the fresh covers, curling up next to Percy. She found his hand under the blankets and held it lightly, and Percy was glad for her presence. They didn't say anything until the sun's first rays entered the room. 

"I think I love her," the girl whispered eventually, drowsy. 

"I think I love him."

Annabeth was silent for a while more, "Why is there an apple on the table?"

"Long story," Percy smiled. The exhaustion was catching up with him, and his body was aching and sore.

"You took your ring off," Annabeth said, a little sad.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," the girl kissed his cheek, "I've got an idea."

**October 1913**

Percy's wedding ring dangled safely over his chest on a chain, almost more of a friendship pendant, as he helped load the last of his bags onto the automobile.

"Are you sure about this?" Sally fretted, "We all assumed you'd stay at the Abbey..."

"Tyson will make a much better Lord Jackson," Percy kissed his mother's cheek, "London is only a few hours away. We'll see you often."

"Yes," Sally smiled at him and discretely wiped her tears, and then kissed Annabeth's cheek, "We'll be expecting you in two weeks for tea?"

Percy nodded. His grandmother gave him a look, "I don't understand why you two insist on wearing your rings on chains."

"It's just more comfortable," Annabeth said hurriedly.

"And I don't see how you'll make do with only two servants!" 

Annabeth and Percy exchanged a knowing look, 

"Times are changing, nana," Percy said carefully, "A footman and a maid is really all we need."

"Piper will double as a cook," Annabeth added, "and Luke as a driver. The house isn't that big, you know how London is."

"Yes, yes," Rhea didn't seem satisfied. Percy cleared his throat awkwardly and then kissed his parents and grandmother goodbye, his wife in tow. Piper the kitchen maid and Luke stood by the automobile, still and professional, and nobody paid attention to them. Nobody but Percy and Annabeth. Percy looked at the big house, at the garden, the place he grew up in, where he met Luke. He'd miss it; all the rooms, the warmth of the kitchens, he'd miss his family and Chiron and the servants and Bob and Hestia down in the kitchens...but he was ready to go. 

*** 

The mansion was in a quieter part of London. It was two storeys with six bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room, a saloon and a kitchen. Compared to Jackson Abbey it was much smaller but to Percy it still felt massive. At least they had a garden, grey and dead at this time of year but sure to bloom when Spring rolled along. The most important part was that Annabeth and he didn't have to share a bedroom anymore - not that they had minded, but the sneaking around had gotten tiring eventually. 

"This is weird," Luke admitted as he set down the baggage in his  _and_ Percy's room. The Lord knew that to Luke it was weird to be in such a fancy room, since he was used to servant's quarters. He watched as the blonde took in the massive bed with a canopy, the closet full of rich clothes, the sofas, the large windows crying with rain that  _pit pattered_ against the glass.

Percy kicked the door closed and Luke's eyes slid to him. He smiled and without a word took Percy into his arms,

"I'm happy," Percy told him, stroking his face, "We don't have to lie anymore. It's just you and me and Annabeth and Piper."

"That's all I need," Luke smiled and kissed him, "I love you."

"I love you too," Percy smiled and stepped away from Luke, "I have something I want to show you," he said, excitedly gripping Luke's hand and dragging him to the window. The blonde squinted to see past the rain and then his eyes widened,

"Is that..."

Percy grinned, "It's an apple tree."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please leave comments and kudos it means so much to me xx


	6. Nico Doyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to save his only son from a rebellion, King Hades sends Nico to a neighbouring country where he has to pretend to be his dead sister, Bianca, and participate in a Contest that picks the next Queen for Prince Percy. Nico is immediately smitten by the prince but has to manouver the other girls and Will, his personal guard, while at the same time ensuring his three cousins, Hazel, Piper and Annabeth, are safe.  
> Inspired by; Gemma Doyle/Selection Trilogy/Princess Academy by Shannon Hale  
> SMUT ALERT

**NICO DOYLE**

 

The dress felt weird around Nico, especially where it brushed against his legs. The carriage rattled along the road, and he jolted at every bump. His hands were clenched in his lap, gloved in white lace. The shoes he was wearing had heels on them, and although not too tall they were uncomfortable even when Nico was sitting down. The multiple layers the dress had made him feel heavy whenever he shifted. His hand absent-mindedly went to his neck as he stared out of the window, his fingers playing with the ruby pendant in the hollow of his throat. His hand accidentally brushed against the dark curls that fell to his collarbone.

Across from him sat two young girls, another next to him. The one directly opposite him was called Annabeth Chase, a princess from the Kingdom of Mattei. Her pale blonde hair was pined back in a fancy up-do, her pale blue dress bunched up on the seats. Her grey eyes looked lost in thought, her fingers patting a rhythm into the crimson seat. Next to her sat Piper McLean, the Princess of Cypris, her brown hair in a long, thick braid that fell to her waist. She was leaning her chin on her hand, which was clad in a lilac glove that matched her dress, as she also stared out of the window. Next to Nico the youngest girl was sleeping. Hazel Levesque's face was caramel, her wild curly blonde hair pined at the nape of her neck, a few curls escaping to frame her sleeping face. She was from Serapis, just like Nico. 

"Say it one more time," across from him Annabeth spoke, her voice soft as to not wake Hazel. Nico cleared his throat to get it rid of any grittiness it might've still carried.

"My name is Bianca di Angelo," he recited carefully, not too fast, with just the right amount of charm in his voice, "I am the daughter of King Hades of the Kingdom of Serapis and I am honoured to participate in the Contest."

"Good," Annabeth said, though her shoulders were still tense.

"Let's just hope they fall for the lie," Piper bit her lip, brown eyes full of worry, "You can't reveal yourself, Nico."

" _Bianca_ _,"_ Annabeth hissed.

"Bianca."

"Huh?" Hazel jolted awake as the carriage bounced suddenly. Behind the curtained windows a forest passed, drowned in the amber light of the setting sun. They were almost at their destination and Nico felt sick. He stared at his gloved hands. 

He wasn't meant to be here. The Contest he and his three friends were going to happened every time a King in one of the neighbouring Kingdoms went looking for a wife. It was a kind of tradition in Olympus dating back thousands of years. The story went that back when the Gods walked the Earth and there were fourteen clans. In one of these clans there was a hero, and every girl wanted to marry him. To avoid dispute and war a mage advised each clan leader to create a contest, to see which girl was the most worthy of the hero. And so the tradition went on for a hundred years, and to this day the Contest still exists, and the fourteen kingdoms of Olympus all have to send at  _least_ one princess, duchess or lady to compete in it. 

Bianca di Angelo had been Nico's sister. They were both from a small and poor kingdom on the outskirts of Olympus who's main trade was fishing, although they mostly focused on exploring the seas. Where most kingdoms had multiple noble girls, Serapis only had Bianca and Hazel, who was Nico's cousin. When news came that Prince Perseus Jackson of the Kingdom of Milos had come of age and was invoking the Contest to find a wife, it was too late. Four days before Bianca had been murdered.

A group of unhappy miners from inland had formed a sort of rebel group, and their aim was to murder Hades and his entire family for raised taxes which the ruler could do nothing about. They had broken into their castle under the cover of night. Bianca had been their first kill - she couldn't sleep and was out in the garden. Her screams had raised an alarm and the rebels had fled, leaving her body in the roses. The roses had been white, but her blood had made them red, Nico remembered that part but not much else.

King Hades was heartbroken - Bianca had been his only daughter, and he knew the rebels would come back. When the invitation came from Milos he had decided it was a blessing in disguise. Hades was most worried for Nico, his precious son and last surviving heir, the rebel's next target. None of the Kingdoms would ever harbour a run away Prince, not when he had a death sentence hanging over him. But of course nobody had to know about that. 

Hades had called for three of Nico's cousins, under the pretence that he wanted them and his daughter to all travel to Milos together. When he had told them of his plan and Hazel's murder they agreed immediately to protect their family, and took Nico with them. Of course the boy had no choice but to go. He was always small, and thin too. His hands and feet were like a girl's, he didn't have to shave his face yet. He couldn't stay and fight - he was too weak. And his father wanted him to live. He told Nico he'd only have to go for some weeks - the contest always last long, months sometimes. Until the danger passed Nico would have to pretend to be Bianca and seek asylum in Milos.

He hated it all, especially the dress, but he knew it was for the best. His father was risking a lot lying to such a powerful kingdom as Milos, and so were Nico's cousins. Whenever he had doubts about the plan or felt foolish pretending to be a girl he'd just remember Bianca's body among the roses, her throat slit. He didn't want to end up like her, he didn't want her death to be for nothing. 

"Ladies," Hazel had her face pressed against the window, and her voice was breathless, "We're here."

The carriage came to a halt in between two other ones, the horses whining at each other with impatience. Nico, who had never left Serapis, was in awe as he stepped out of the carriage, the pale pink skirts of his dress rustling. The front yard was bathed in golden light and girls came from all directions towards the main door where butler's were holding the doors open for them. Cherry trees surrounded the building like a pretty rosy border, and behind them a forest stretched as far as the purple peaks of the mountains that were the border between Milos and Smyrna. The castle itself was  _massive,_ nothing like the tiny thing Nico lived in back at home. It was at least five storeys high, made of white brick, the towers tipped with red. The Gothic windows were open to let in the warm evening breeze. 

"It's beautiful," Piper said, gripping Hazel's hand. The girl just nodded unable to speak. 

"Right," Annabeth smoothed down her skirt and offered Nico her arm, "Let's do this."

Nico nervously looped his arm through his cousin's and let her lead him towards the castle. There were archers on the battlements, but from so far down Nico couldn't see their faces. He felt the eyes of the other girl's on him, heard whispers and automatically assumed they were about him. He blushed and ducked his head, though the rational part of his brain told him he had nothing to worry about - he looked just like a girl. His dress had been padded in all the right places to add his sharp body the curves it needed, the wig on-top of his head made his face seem softer. He was just another girl in a pink muslin dress.

The hallway seemed dim after the brightness of the yard. Annabeth and Nico followed the long trail of gossiping girls that flooded in, followed by Piper and Hazel. The hallway had no windows, just a massive, beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling somewhere far above and a winding staircase fading into the darkness. The chandelier wasn't lit yet and added to the mystery of the spacious room. The hallway led forward, branching out to smaller corridors. At the end of it was a rich oak door, and that's where all the girl's were heading. Nico's hands were shaking and he hoped Annabeth didn't notice. One slip and he'd have to go back to Serapis and risk getting killed.

"Relax," Annabeth whispered under her breath, "there's nothing to worry about - it's just a stupid Contest."

Nico nodded and  _tried_ to believe her. To her it might've been a stupid Contest, but to him it was a matter of life and death. He felt uncomfortable with all the shadows and whispering and desperately wanted to go back into the yard. He was almost relieved when the girls all stepped into the brightly lit dining room. It had a high, arched ceiling and golden ornaments on every wall. Two long tables had been set up with cutlery and cups and candles, and at their head was a small rise, on which the royal table was set. The whispers died away as the girls stared in awe, hovering by the door. Nico was glad for their closeness, hiding behind them. 

King Poseidon stood, raising his hands. He was a strong man, his beard and hair peppered with white, his blue eyes bright and sparkling. 

"Welcome!" he boomed, "To the Kingdom of Milos. We are honoured to have you for the Contest."

"We are honoured!" the girls echoed back as one, curtsying. Nico followed their movement a second too late, clumsily. He hoped nobody noticed, cheeks burning. The King continued to talk some more but the blood rushing to Nico's head prevented him from hearing anything. Sensing his nervousness, Hazel took his hand and squeezed it. 

"...Prince Perseus!" Nico snapped back into reality the moment that the Prince stood up. The girls around him inhaled softly and then hurriedly curtsied. Nico just stared, unable to move. Prince Perseus was  _gorgeous,_ dark hair and eyes the same blue as his fathers. He sent a charming grin to the ladies and for a second his eyes locked with Nico's, probably because he was the only one still standing. He curtsied quickly, trying no to draw anymore attention to himself.

"Percy's perfectly fine," the Prince corrected, earning a giggle from the crowd, "Please, sit down, eat, you must be exhausted, ladies."

This was  _bad._ Nico already had too much on his plate without worrying about developing a crush on the Prince of Milos. Like a corpse he shuffled after Hazel to the table. The girls sat down, their eyes sneaking to Percy every so often as they whispered among each other. Nico couldn't concentrate on their faces as he settled between Hazel and Piper, concealing his trembling hands beneath the table. The footmen brought around platters of food; hams and bacon and whole roasts, peacocks and pigeons, pies and minces and cakes, piles of potatoes and freshly baked, crispy bread, fruit and profiteroles dripping in chocolate and Nico couldn't touch any of it.

Dinner seemed to pass at the blink of an eye. Piper urged Nico to eat something but gave up when she saw that several of the other girls barely touched the food. As the plates were being cleared away Percy stood up again, to explain this year's Contest.

"This year you wonderful ladies are going to have four challenges," he smiled at them charmingly and Nico's heart skipped a beat. He hated to admit but he was as smitten as all the other girls around him...well, except Annabeth. She looked as unimpressed as ever, "After each challenge I will have to - unfortunately - eliminate several of you, which fills my heart with regrets."

Annabeth stifled a yawn and Percy's eyes flickered to her. Piper kicked her beneath the table,

"Behave," she whispered. Percy hurriedly finished his speech and then invited the girls to look at the list posted outside their dining room, to find their room number and go 'freshen up.' Nico was finally starting to relax - nobody was paying attention to him. There were twenty one girls here, all beautiful and talented, and Bianca di Angelo from Serapis didn't draw the eye. For that Nico was grateful. 

His panic returned when after getting swept up in the mass of girls to the list he found that he wasn't with Annabeth, Piper  _or_ Hazel. In fact none of them were together. As most of the excited girls started up the winding staircase in search of their bedrooms, Annabeth drew her cousins into a shadowed corner.

"Listen," she turned to Nico, "You have to be  _careful._ If you're changing, bathing,  _anything,_ you have to make sure nobody can see you."

"I know, I'm not an idiot," Nico told her.

"Make friends with whoever's in your chambers," Piper advised, "that way if by any chance they find out the truth they'll feel loyalty towards you and maybe they won't betray you."

Nico exhaled, feeling a headache coming on, "Any more brilliant advice?" he turned to Hazel. The girl shrugged, 

"I'm in the bedroom next door, so if anything happens - scream."

Nico was about to roll his eyes but then a servant appeared with a ladder and started to light the candles on the massive chandelier. Sheepishly the four friends scurried up the stairs. The hallways all looked similar; spacious, with torches burning on one wall and windows covering the other. Nico felt his heart thumping in his throat when they finally found the hall with the dorms. Some doors were thrown open, light spilling out onto the corridor alongside laughter. Nico send Hazel a scared look but she only smiled at him and they went into their respective rooms.

Nico wasn't used to such lavishness. The bedroom vast, and shaped in a semi circle. On the circled side three big, fluffy beds were pressed against the wall. The windows had dark red curtains pulled across them, and there was a happy fire roaring in the fireplace. Nico was the last to arrive and his two roommates were already present. One of them was sitting by the vanity, brushing her black, straight hair. Her pale blue eyes met Nico's in the mirror and she grinned brightly, standing up so her roseate dress swirled around her,

"Hello!" she rushed to Nico and hugged him. The boy squeaked in surprise and almost jumped back, "My name is Silena Beauregard," the girl pulled away, smiling widely. Nico noted that she was very pretty, "Number fifteen, from Cypris!"

Nico remembered the little ornate number that had come with the invitation letter. It was probably left all the way back in Serapis. 

"B-Bianca di Angelo," Nico stuttered, "Thirteen. Serapis."

"Wonderful!" Silena beamed, her hands holding onto Nico's, "That's brilliant. How many girls came from Serapis then?"

"Um...two," Nico was thrown off by Silena. For some reason he thought that they were all meant to hate and sabotage each other. He tried to remember his scruffy geography lessons and what he knew about Cypris. Piper was from there, and told him some things, though they were foggy. It was on the opposite coast to Serapis, also near a sea. But where Serapis' sea was all grey and green with lots of rain, in Cypris it was eternal summer and shimmering blue seas. The only other thing Nico could remember about that kingdom was that they had  _great_ pleasure houses, but he decided not to mention that. 

"Four girls came from Cypris," the voice of Nico's second roommate drifted from her bed. Up until this point Nico had barely noticed her; she had short, messy hair as dark as Silena's, and eyes that looked borderline purple. She was dressed in a black dress that made her look like she was in mourning. As she sat up, she stretched and walked over to her roommates. She offered Nico a hand, "Cypris always has the most people," Nico wondered if it had anything to do with the pleasure houses, "My name is Thalia Grace, Princess of Smyrna."

"O-Oh...," Smyrna was as small as Serapis, located on top of the Olympian mountains practically right next to Milos, and they focused on breeding birds there. Not much of a trade, but neither was oceanic exploration, "What number?" Nico tried to sound interested. Thalia pondered this for a moment and then shrugged,

"Can't remember," she went back to her bed. Silena gave Nico an apologetic look,

"Don't mind her, she had a long journey," she said, "and Thalia, your number is fourteen. That's why you're rooming with us; thirteen, fourteen, fifteen?"

"Ain't you a smart one," Thalia raised a cloudy bottle she pulled out of her bags, "toast to you, Lady Silena," she took a swing.

"Is that  _liquor?"_ Nico gaped at her. Thalia made a sour face at the taste,

"Aye," she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then offered some to Nico, "home-made, a present from my father."

Nico stared at the bottle and felt tempted, but he knew that he got drunk very fast and then got  _very_ talkative, and he couldn't afford to slip up, "No, thank you."

Silena also shook her head, "Suit yourselves," Thalia collapsed on her bed and drank some more. Silena turned to Nico,

"Why don't we go to the bathroom and freshen up?" she asked kindly. Nico swallowed nervously,

"Um...I-I...do we share bathrooms?" he asked. Silena gave him a weird look,

"Of course silly! All twenty one of us."

Nico paled, "Oh."

Piper must've come to the same conclusion because she came barrelling in through the door. Thalia raised an eyebrow and Silena gaped,

"Sorry to barge in, ladies," the brunette apologised. She drew Silena close and kissed her cheek, "Hello, Cypris."

Silena brightened up, "Hello Cypris!"

Piper grabbed Nico by the wrist, "Bianca I told the Prince about your....um, medical condition. You get your own bathroom, isn't that swell!"

Nico couldn't utter another word, just gaped at her. Piper stared apologising to his roommates, shoving Nico's nightclothes into a smaller bag and then unceremoniously dragging him out of the bedroom. She hurriedly led him down the corridor, away from the other girls which were all heading to the shared bathroom.

"I told Percy you have crippling anxiety," Piper informed him.

"What?!" Nico stopped walking. The girl shrugged,

"You know...that you're insecure and don't want to be around other girls."

Nico slapped his forehead with his hand, "You could've said it was because of religious beliefs," he said weakly, trying not to imagine what Percy thinks of him now.

"Sorry," Piper said sheepishly as they started walking again, "But you get your own bathroom, that's good isn't it?"

"Yes," Nico tried to smile and failed, "Thank you."

They were heading to the second pair of stairs at the end of the hallway, the laughter of the other girls fading into the background. A figure appeared out of a fold of the corridor. It was a guard; tall, muscular, dressed partly in normal clothes and party in chainmail. In his hand he carried a spear, at his waist he had a long sheathed sword. Despite all the weapons and threatening posture his face was warm and kind and handsome. Nico blinked at him when the man blocked their path. He had golden curls that fell into his twinkling eyes and freckles across his tanned cheeks. 

"Hello," he said. 

"Nico, this is General William, he will make sure that you are guarded during your...err...bathroom breaks," Piper said. 

"I don't need a nanny," Nico said sourly. General William shrugged,

"I just do what I'm told," he said, almost apologetically. Nico didn't want to sound ungrateful so he stifled a sigh and took his bag off Piper,

"Thank you, Piper," he kissed her cheek. She smiled at them both and practically skipped down the corridor the way they just came. Nico looked at the guard in front of him, "Well, lead the way General William."

The man winced, "Just Will is fine."

"Just Will, Just Percy, alright," Nico exhaled, "lead the way Just Will."

They stared down the stairs in awkward silence. Nico was lost in thought gripping his bag in his hands. He was thankful for his own bathroom, otherwise things might've gotten nasty. He didn't want to be in a bad mood but the constant fear and panic and confusion were taking a toll on him. He didn't even know if his parents were still alive, if his home was still standing...and his shoes were uncomfortable. 

The bathroom was nice though. A large bathtub dominated the middle, and it was surrounded by candles. A looking glass was leaning against the wall. 

"Right...," Will cleared his throat awkwardly, "I'll be right outside...so you know, scream if...you know..."

"Why would I scream?" Nico raised an eyebrow. Will blushed,

"Maybe they'll be a bug or something," he mumbled shuffling out. 

Nico waited a few moments after the door was shut to make sure Will wouldn't randomly burst in, and then slowly turned to the looking glass. He winced at his reflection. He looked horribly ungainly and awkward in the pink dress. _Why_ did it have to be pink? Couldn't they have picked something more subtle? 

The boy started to undress, shoving his wretched shoes off and  turning on the taps so the tub started to fill out. After his dress ended up on the floor his undergarments quickly followed, alongside his stockings. Nico slipped off the wig and ruffled his real, dark hair beneath it, feeling relieved. He didn't notice how heavy and hot the thing had been until it was off. He stared at himself in the mirror, the  _real_ him - a skinny, pale boy with jutting out hipbones and collarbones and messy hair that fell onto the forehead, and wondered how much longer he'd have to hide. It had only been one day and it was already hard. 

He was afraid to stay in the bath too long in case Will decided to check up on him. The guard seemed like he had enough decency but Nico's paranoia didn't care about that so he was out too fast for his liking. He dressed quickly, drying his body down with a fluffy towel. His nightgown was hideous and Nico thought he looked like he was dressed in his grandmother's old robes. 

"All done?" Will asked in surprise when Nico stepped out into the cooler corridor. He nervously touched his wig to make sure it lay right,

"Yes," he said, briskly starting to walk away, "I don't like waffling."

"I can see that," Will ran to match his pace.

"My bath's done you can go back up to the battlements or whatever it is you do all night," Nico wanted to get rid of the blonde, not because he was annoying but because Nico didn't like the way he looked at him - it was too intense and Nico was scared he'd notice something manly about him and his secret would see the light of day.

"Let me at least walk you to your room," Will offered, smiling warmly at Nico as if they were the best of friends. Nico stifled a sigh and in silence allowed Will to escort him to his door. There he said his hurried goodbyes and slipped behind into the somewhat-safety of his bedrooms. Silena and Thalia were just lumps under the blankets, which Nico was grateful for - he didn't want to have to talk to anyone that night. He was exhausted. Before he went to sleep he went over to Thalia's nightstand, picked up her liquor and took a long, healthy gulp. 

*** 

In the morning Nico was glad to see Annabeth, Hazel and Piper filing out in the corridor with the other girls. He shoved his way to the candidates, exhaling when he finally got to his cousins. 

"Bianca," Hazel's hand gripped his as they made for the stairs, "Was everything alright last night?"

A redheaded girl filed in next to them, looking curious, "Did something happen to you last night?" she looked at Nico. Before the boy could reply Piper interrupted,

"She has crippling anxiety," she made a sad face, "poor lamb."

The redhead nodded sympathetically and then walked off.

"Stop telling everyone I have crippling anxiety," Nico hissed. Annabeth smirked,

"That was Rachel Elizabeth Dare from Delphi. She seems to know everything about everyone so I'll be surprised if she doesn't figure you out soon enough."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Nico asked, but Annabeth didn't get to answer as they all flooded into the dinning hall, which was organised the same way as the evening before. The girls chirped like birds as they sat down and the footmen came around with platters of cheese, bread and fruit. Now that some of Nico's anxiety had passed he was able to stomach the breakfast, something his body was grateful for. As the girls were finishing up Prince Percy came in, followed closely by two guards; one of them was Will and ignoring all social rules he openly grinned at Nico. The boy didn't smile back and followed the girls as they all rose abruptly and curtsied. 

" _Good Morning,"_ they chimed. Percy smiled,

"Welcome. I am here to announce that your first competition in the Contest will be this afternoon," and excited murmur went through the small crowd and Percy continued, "I'd like to point out that any assassination attempts, sabotages or dirty dealings will mean your immediate disqualification. So play nice ladies." Nico was dying to know where the assassination attempt came from, "Your challenge will be to go out into the nearby town of Nethuns," he held up a fat wad of papers, "These are types of leaflets - you must convince the common people to support you in the Contest and sign their name off on this page. Every person can only sign once, so don't try teaming up," Percy offered them a sad smile, "My guards will be with you. The two girls with the lowest number of votes will be asked to return home."

" _Shit,"_ Annabeth swore as Percy left and the girls started to squeal excitedly. She drew her friends nearer.

"How are we supposed to get votes  _and_ not draw attention to ourselves?" Piper asked.

"Look," Nico said quietly, "we split up. Each of us gets as many votes as they can thought not  _too_ many. We can't get eliminated but-"

"We can't win either," Annabeth nodded gravely, "Alright. This shouldn't be so hard."

*** 

It was  _hard._ Nethuns was a pretty town with cobbled streets and thatched roofs but it's people had already seen four Contests in the past fifteen years, and they knew what to expect. Sweet words and pretty faces didn't throw them off - when the contestants came flooding into the street they knew exactly what to do. The most thrown around question from them was  _why you?_

The contestants had until sundown to gather votes and after about an hour of loitering in the town square where the most people were present, Nico realised that they weren't getting anywhere. He told Annabeth as much and he and his three cousins all agreed to split up away from the main bulk of the girls. Blindly, Nico chose a side-road and walked down it. He came out on a parallel road that was wider and had a carriage rattling past. Someone threw dirty water from a window and it splattered not to far from Nico. A florists was closing, a bakery selling out its last pies. Several couples were walking leisurely up and down the road in the warm sunshine. Nico gathered up his courage and stopped the closest one.

"Excuse me-" he started.

"Is this the foolish Contest business?" the middle aged woman asked sourly, her hand tightening on her husband's arm, "I was in the Contest once too."

Nico exhaled, "Oh! Well you must know what it's like, If I could just-"

"What makes you better than all these girls?" the woman snapped, "Why you? Why not me, huh?"

Nico stared at her. He didn't know the answer to that question. Hopelessly he gripped the page in his hand, crippling it. The woman smirked,

"That's what I thought," she scoffed and dragged her husband away, leaving Nico alone on the street. He sighed and rubbed his face - this was harder than he expected. He hardheartedly trailed down the road, and managed to get two signatures, more out of pity than anything else. At that rate he'd be eliminated and forced to return home after the first day. 

"There you are!" Will came out of nowhere, smiling, "I was worried you got lost," when Nico didn't reply Will stopped and frowned, "What is it? The Contest's not going well?"

"It's pointless," Nico sighed, "These people don't want a new Queen. They don't care about that."

"It's a lot of the same," Will agreed sympathetically, "Pretty faces and not much else. But hey," he gently eased the page from Nico's hands, "Don't give up, Bianca," he took out a quill from his pocket and scratched his signature on the paper.

"I'm sure you can't do that," Nico deadpanned. Will shrugged and handed him back the paper,

"Nobody told me I can't," he said cheerfully, "Now come on why don't we-"

"I don't believe my eyes," a voice sounded to Nico's left. The boy turned, his heart clenching, and suddenly felt sick. Standing in front of him was the travelling delivery man that sold dairy to his castle in Serapis once a month. His eyes were wide. He knew who Nico was. 

"Sorry, you have the wrong person," Nico's voice trembled.

"No, no, I'm sure-" the merchant reached out to Nico but Will slapped his hand away,

"Don't touch her."

"Her?" the merchant's eyebrows shot up but Nico didn't wait any longer. Forgetting all about Will, he turned on his heel and sprinted down the street. His head was spinning, it was hard to breathe, or think straight. All Nico could see was Bianca's bloody body in the roses. He couldn't end up like her. The boy had no idea how long he ran for but by the time he stopped his lungs burned and there were tears in his eyes. He leaned against the building and tried to catch his breath.

"Bianca!" Nico heard Will's steps pounding on the ground and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control himself, "Bianca, are you okay?!" the breathless guard stopped right next to Nico, panting, "Why did you run, why-"

"Why are you following me?!" Nico retaliated, unknowing to where the anger suddenly came from, "You've followed me around like a lost puppy since yesterday,  _why?"_

Will looked lost, "I...I just...," he swallowed, "I thought we could be friends," he mumbled quietly, looking away, his blue eyes full of embarrassment, "Sorry."

The merchant appeared on the top of the road, making straight at Nico. The boy almost groaned in annoyance and without even thinking about it he veered into the closest doorway. 

He was hit by a wave of heat that almost made him gasp. The air was full of the smell of wheat, bread, meat and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Nico had walked right into the pub. Through the hazy air he could see at least two dozen massive, hunched over men sitting by crudely made tables, drinking ale out of stone cups. Their eyes all landed on him and Nico had never been so aware of being in a dress as at that moment. 

"We have a lost princess," one of the men boomed in amusement, standing up, "What are you doing here, little girl?"

"You just said she's lost," another man interrupted.

"I know what I said," the first man barked. 

"She looks scared," someone commented.

"She should be," someone else laughed. Nervously Nico looked behind him but Will wasn't there. The  _one_ time Nico needed him the man decided to finally listen to him and fuck off. Swallowing anxiously, Nico looked back at the bar men.

"Want a drink, little girl?"

"Get her some ale!"

"Ah, you're really scaring her-"

"It's not my fault!"

"Would you like some ale, child?"

"Where are you from?"

"Maybe some food?"

"No," Nico somehow found his voice. Forcing his hands to steady he held out his piece of paper with three pathetic signatures on it, "I'd like you all to sign this. Please and thank you."

*** 

The girls were all seated around their tables that same evening, nervously watching Percy and his father up on the raise. In front of them was a stack of the papers that earlier that day the girls had gotten signed. Nico was shaking with nerves, but was also transfixed with Percy and the perfect way his hair fell when he moved. He never thought about it but now he imagined what it'd be like winning the Contest. Of course they were just daydreams, he was a boy under a fake name, he could never rule alongside the gorgeous Prince.

"We have dutifully counted up the number of signatures each of you has gotten," Percy said, standing, "and the opinion of our people is very important to us. That is why we have to regretfully say goodbye to two of you," he took a deep breath and Nico tensed, "Number sixteen Catherine Gardner from Thesmophoros and number eighteen Julia Feingold from Ingenui, goodbye."

A pretty girl with green eyes that matched her dress stood up with tears in her eyes and with a chocked sob ran from the hall, clutching her heart. The second girl, Julia, got up with more dignity. She inclined her head towards Percy and then swept from the hall, following Katie. Nico couldn't help but feel relief, slumping in his seat. For a blissful second he was happy - at least something had gone right. Then his eyes met Will's from across the room. The guard, standing by the door, looked away almost apologetically. Nico couldn't help but feel guilty for taking his anger out on the man - after all he did nothing wrong, if anything he tried to help. 

When all the girls started to fill out of the hall, ecstatic about remaining in the Contest, Nico lingered behind, awkwardly walking up to Will. The blonde straightened up when he saw Nico.

"Hello."

"H-Hello," the guard tried to smile. 

"I'm...sorry about earlier," Nico's hands twisted into his skirt, "I didn't mean to be rude, I just took my frustration out on you."

Will shrugged, "You were right though - we barely know each other, there's no reason we should be friends."

Nico found himself saying something he never expected, "But we can be. If you w-want."

The two looked at each other and then slowly Will smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek, "I'd like that."

Nico leaned against the wall next to him, "So tell me about yourself."

"So...um...I have six siblings."

" _Six?!"_

***

A week passed in a sleepy kind of awaiting. The girls, now nineteen of them left, went down to breakfast each day anticipating any news Prince Percy might give them but the second challenge didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry. Slowly the girls started feeling more at home in the castle that would one day belong to one of them. Some girls took to walking the gardens and having picnics, others explored the large library in the North wings while others still played the instruments in the music room, filling the castle with sweet sounds. 

Nico, Annabeth, Piper and Hazel were in the first category, spending their days mostly outside in the warm sunshine. Nico relished in how different Milos was compared to Serapis. There was no constant sound of the sea that soothed him, and Nico missed it dearly. He wrote home and eagerly awaited a reply. He still mostly kept to his cousins, scared to get to know the other girls. The only times he came out of his comfort zone was when he spoke with Thalia and Silena, his two roommates who he was growing to like, or Will. 

Will was a novelty to him, in a sense. The guards back in Serapis were old and silent, guarding the stone hallways with their stern expressions. Will was sunshine and cheerfulness and always seemed to care about everyone around him. Nico couldn't help but like him, despite the fact that they were polar opposites. Will always had a funny story to tell, whether it be about his family back at home or his life in the castle. Nico's breath still caught whenever he saw Prince Percy, and he couldn't help but hope for impossible things. 

A week from the first challenge Will cornered Nico after he finished his bath, about to return to his dorm.

"The second challenge is dancing," the guard murmured, crowding in  _way_ too close to Nico. 

"I-I can't dance," Nico stammered, trying not to think about how nice Will smelled, "Did you eat chocolate chip cookies? You smell l-like them."

Will's face fell, "Oh. I didn't think...I should've saved you some," he smiled remorsefully, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Nico discreetly pulled away, his bag of clothes clutched to his chest protectively. Will followed him down the hallway,

"Wait, how can you not know how to dance?" he scoffed, "Aren't you a Lady?"

"Princess," Nico mumbled, "But I just...can't do it."

"There's still time until the task," Will shrugged, "I can teach you."

"I don't think that's the most brilliant idea," Nico interjected, imagining Will accidentally touching him where he shouldn't and finding out his real gender. 

"It's a great idea!" Will grinned. 

*** 

The good thing was that Will's hand didn't stray from Nico's waist. The bad thing was that he was  _very, very_ close. Nico could've counted his freckles if he wanted to (he kind of did). His heart pounded against his ribs from fear of being uncovered, his hand was clammy where it rested in Will's much bigger one.

"Two steps back, one to the left," the blonde instructed patiently. The two of them were in the great library of the house, trying to dance in a blotchy oval of sunlight on the floor, their only music being the faraway sound of someone playing the violin, "Relax, Bianca. You're all shaky."

"S-Sorry," Nico stammered. He stared at his feet, unable to look at Will's face. He clumsily did the move the guard just instructed him to,

"Good," the man praised. Nico made a face and Will quickly corrected himself, "Better."

"I'll probably step all over Prince Percy's feet," Nico grumbled, imagining the embarrassment of doing that. 

"I'm sure Percy will forgive you," Will teased, then playfully spun Nico around so his lilac skirts twirled around him. When the boy came back around Will wrapped both of his arms loosely around his waist and Nico would be lying if he said that it didn't make his heart skip a beat. His skin prickled and he tried to swallow futilely. He didn't expect Will to get so close - their noses were almost touching. The blonde stared at Nico with an unreadable expression on his face. Nico's eyes subconsciously flickered to Will's mouth. He didn't want to kiss him; it was just instinct.

Will stepped back and cleared his throat, blushing, "We can...um, continue the dance lessons later."

***

Despite some initial awkwardness Will's dance lessons definitely paid off when two days later Percy had the servants clear away the tables after dinner, leaving a dance space in the middle of the spacious room. He explained the trial and how all it involved was showing grace while dancing but Nico could barely hear him as his palms sweated, just like the first time he and Will danced. The blonde guard was in the corner and he gave Nico a comforting smile. 

The nervousness just seemed to add to Nico's excitement though. This was the first time that the candidates actually got to be close to Percy, to touch him. This was the first time they became singular people to him.

The redhead that had briefly spoken to Nico, Rachel, went first. Her dancing was graceful enough if a bit odd, which Nico chalked down to being part of her Delphian culture. Next went a blonde girl with a smirk from Campana called Kelli, and there was something unsettlingly erotic about her dance, and not in a good way. Even Percy seemed uncomfortable. Hazel, who was number four, had to go soon. Nico thought she looked like a butterfly, her golden dress like wings. Annabeth glared at Percy throughout their dance, but he seemed taken by her, just grinning like an idiot. Nico tried not to feel jealous. Right before Nico went number twelve, Lacy Lovell, and she was just as clumsy as Nico expected he'd be. 

And then it was his turn. 

Percy smiled at him encouragingly when he came forward on shaky knees. Their first touch made Nico tense up. Percy's hands were a lot lighter than Will's, almost hesitant, and Nico hated thinking how it felt weird dancing with someone who wasn't the blonde guard. Percy's palm was soft against his - never done a day's of work. It contrasted the roughness of Will's hand.  _Why do you keep thinking about him?_ Nico scolded himself, blushing and trying not to look at Will as Percy spun him around. 

The dance was largely unmemorable, at least to Nico. It was silent and tense and Nico just kept staring at Percy's beautiful face. When he returned to the group he was dizzy and couldn't focus on the remaining girls. After the last of them went Percy thanked them and disappeared into a doorway, leaving the girls to discuss their performances among each other.

"I think you were great, Nico," Hazel congratulated him, "I didn't know you could dance."

"Thank you. You were all wonderful," Nico said, still a bit unfocused. If the girls noticed anything they didn't say. Across the room Nico's eyes met with Will and the man smiled at him as if saying  _well done._ The hall felt stuffy and too hot all of a sudden, and Nico desperately wanted to get out of his dress. When Percy came back in Nico almost got to his knees and Thanked the Gods. 

"I am deeply upset to say that tonight I will have to eliminate six of you," Percy said mournfully. A gasp of shock went through the girls and Annabeth started to calculate how much of a chance they had to pass. Percy started to talk again; the second candidate from Thesmophoros was eliminated, Miranda, leaving only one Thesmophoronian still in the Contest. Number eleven, an angry girl called Zoe Nightshade from Agrotera was the next to go, and she stormed out of the hall. Nico's heart skipped a painful beat when number twelve, Lacy, the girl that went before him, was sent away. She broke down crying and had to be escorted out. The boy slumped against Annabeth when Percy missed his number and went straight to fifteen, Alice Miyazawa, making Ingenui completely leave the Contest. 

"...and finally, number nineteen," Percy concluded, looking uncomfortable, "Piper McLean from Cypris. Goodbye."

Blood rushed to Nico's ears, next to him Annabeth swore under her breath. Piper went pale as a sheet of paper and Hazel gripped her hand in a way that looked almost painful. Nico found it hard to breathe; Piper was one of them! She couldn't just leave. 

"It's going to be alright," she told her cousins, "I'm going back to Cypris," she sounded feverish, "I'll write as fast as I can. Keep me up to date," she leaned in close, "Protect Nico," she whispered. Then slowly the girl curtsied low to Percy and with her head held high walked out of the hall, leaving behind her shocked cousins. 

***

Nico kept it all together until Will escorted him to his own personal bathroom. As soon as the door closed Nico attempted to undress. He got as far as taking his wig off and then a dam in his broke and suddenly there were tears in his eyes and a sob bubbling in his throat. The boy slid hopelessly down the wall in a heap of baby blue ruffles as hot tears raced down his cheeks. Piper was gone - they weren't even allowed to say goodbye. 

Nico knew that this was good - they couldn't all stay until the end, that'd be too suspicious. But he didn't expect the blow to come so fast. They had only been in Milos for less than two weeks and already Nico was losing one of his family. The thought that she was returning Cypris where she'd be safe offered some comfort, but not much. Nico felt hopelessly lonely; of course he still had Hazel and Annabeth, but Piper...he couldn't imagine going through this facade every day without her smile to urge him on. 

The boy curled up against the wall and tried to stop crying but it was impossible. Everything had built up since Bianca's death; the fear, the panic, the anger, the frustration, and Piper's elimination was just what finally tipped the scales. Nico's sobs sounded horribly loud in the bathroom. 

A knock sounded on the door and Will's voice drifted in, "Bianca? Is everything alright?"

With a sound between a sob and a gasp Nico slapped his hand over his mouth to try and muffle the sounds. He shuffled over and leaned his back against the door to prevent Will from coming in and seeing him like this. His wig was too far to reach.

"I-I'm f-fine," Nico lied shakily. Will tried to open the door,

"Bianca, you're crying-"

"No!" Nico flew up and slammed his body against the door, "D-Don't...don't come i-in."

"S-Sorry," Will's voice was muffled, "Are you i-indecent?"

Nico's hand subconsciously came up to his short hair, "Yes," he said hoarsely, "Yes I'm indecent."

"Sorry," Will said again. Nico collected himself and wiped his tears furiously. Piper wasn't  _dead,_ he'd see her again in a few weeks...hopefully. As always the boy kept his bath short, scrubbing himself harder than he probably should've. When he came out into the corridor, followed by curling steam, he hoped he didn't look like he had been crying. The sad, worried look on Will's tanned face told him otherwise.

"Bianca-" the guard started, reaching out, but Nico flinched away,

"It's a-alright," he said, "I'm alright."

Will walked him back to his bedroom without a word, his shoulders slumped. Nico could tell he wanted to say something but was stopping himself. The Serapinian was too tired to try and figure out what it was he wanted, and his head was hurting from the hot bath and the crying. Nico was glad when he got to his door,

"Goodnight Bianca," Will blurted. Nico glanced at him. Will looked lost, his blue eyes wide. Nico smiled at him palely,

"Goodnight Will."

There was a sombre atmosphere in his dorm, just like everywhere else. Nobody was laughing or dancing or gossiping - six girls had been a blow to the Contest, especially since a lot of the girls lost contestants from their Kingdoms. Silena was sitting next to Thalia on the latter's bed when Nico came in, her eyes red,

"...it's just me and Drusilla now...the pressure is too much, Cypris wins most of the time," she sniffled and looked up when Nico came and immediately her face crumpled. She ran at him and threw her arms around him, "Bianca! I-I'm so sorry that Piper g-got eliminated! I know you t-two were c-close..."

Awkwardly Nico patted her back, "It's alright."

"Bianca," Thalia said, "You've gotten a letter."

Nico abruptly pulled away from Silena and forced himself to calmly walk to his bed, where an envelope rested on his pillows.  _It's from father,_ he thought, picking it up with trembling hands. Silena went back to crying on Thalia's shoulder as Nico slipped the letter out. He had to force his hands to steady as he read greedily. 

_Dear Bianca,_

_My daughter. Everything is alright. We are visiting Cypris, where it is safer, with your aunt and uncle. Serapis isn't secure. ~~When~~ If you are eliminated then we will be expecting you here. _

_With love,_

_Hades, King of Serapis._

Nico exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and felt like a weight was taken off his shoulders. He let out a startled, carefree laugh. His family was safe! He had a home to return to, and everything would be alright.

"Good news?" Thalia asked with a raised eyebrow. Nico grinned at them broadly,

"Very," he said, and then spilled back into the corridor. He automatically turned to go to the last room on the corridor, before remembering that Piper was gone. The room on the right to him was closed shut - Alice, Katie and Julia had all been eliminated. Not losing his good mood Nico barrelled into the room on his left without even knocking, startling the residents. Miranda was gone, her bed stripped down to the mattress.

"Ni...Bianca," Hazel stood up from where she had been reading a pile of books on the floor. Her silver skirts rustled as she rushed to her cousin, "Is everything alright? Why are you in here?"

Gwendolyn Centurion, a pretty girl from Dias, watched the exchange carefully. But Nico didn't care - not this time.

"I'm upset about Piper!" Nico proclaimed loudly, throwing his arms around a surprised Hazel and pulling her close, "They're all safe. In Cypris."

Hazel exhaled and hugged him back tightly, "Thank the Gods."

"Sorry about the disturbance," Nico told Gwen. She just shrugged at him and he slipped back into the dark corridor. He took a breath but couldn't keep the smile off of his face as he now more calmly walked to Annabeth's room. The other girl from Cypris, Drusilla, commonly known as Drew, and the girl from Custou, Nyssa, were both in and ignoring their looks Nico managed to whisper Annabeth the good news. Then he told said his goodnight's and went back out into the dark corridor.

"Bianca?" Will, who was patrolling, seemed surprised to see Nico and his change of mood. The boy grinned brightly, still feeling as light as a feather, and barrelled right into him, throwing his arms around the other man in exhilaration. Will stumbled back but then with an uneasy laugh hugged Nico back lightly, "Someone's happy."

Realising what he was doing, Nico pulled away, embarrassed, "Apologies."

"No, it's alright," Will smiled, and Nico just smiled back. 

***

The remaining fifteen girls were gathered by the line of cherry trees, in a semi circle around Prince Percy. It was a brilliant, sunny morning and the pink flowers rustled in the breeze. Servants were giving out ribbons to the girls, each a different colour, while Percy explained the next part of the Contest. 

"Each of you should tie our ribbon around your waits - loosely now, Ladies," Nico wasn't tying his ribbon, too busy staring at Percy's perfect smile, "you will all then be allowed in the forest. The aim of the game is to not let me catch you and take your ribbon. This game will continue until midday, a game of cat and mouse if you will. If I take your ribbon then unfortunately you will be eliminated. There are guards inside the forest for your protection, as always."

" _Bianca,"_ Hazel whispered under her breath, pulling the ribbon out of Nico's limp hands and snapping him out of his dreamy thoughts. She hurriedly tied the black sash around his waist. 

"Any questions?" Percy asked. 

"If you catch us are we allowed to... _persuade_ you to not take our ribbon?" Kelli Empousa asked flirtatiously, leaning forward and exposing the low neckline of her dress. Some of the girls giggled and Nico wished glares could kill.

"No," Percy smiled awkwardly, "No, those are not the rules...," he cleared his throat, "If there are no more questions then - off you go."

The girls dashed into the trees, squealing. Nico glanced at Percy one last time and their eyes met. The Prince smiled and Nico found himself blushing, hesitantly following the girls into the forest. For a while he jogged on, his shoes and skirt stopping him from making much progress. Every once in a while a dash of colour indicated one of the girls somewhere among the tree barks. The sun was blotted out by branches, and the forest was surprisingly dark. 

Nico had no idea where Annabeth and Hazel went but he gave up looking for them after a few minutes as he ventured further out into the forest - it was massive. One time he bumped into a guard who was not Will, but apart from that he was all by himself. He passed a small spring, twinkling happily, and a clearing where the sunshine warmed his skin. As he delved back into the trees he started to walk at a normal pace and his thoughts began to stray.

As always, they ended up on Bianca. Feeling isolated, Nico looked nervously around himself. The forest seemed to have eyes all of a sudden, and there were too many shadows for Nico's liking. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he wished for nothing more than one of the other girls to pop out from among the barks. But there was no-one, just the distance whistle of the birds. Nico was uneasy...no, he was scared. He imagined the rebels sneaking up on him, their knives drawn.

The boy was unable to handle his paranoia anymore. Hurriedly he found a tree and then began to climb it stealthily. Now that was something he was good at; gracefully he found branches and went as high up as he dared, settling on a branch and watching the forest for a sign of movement. Technically he didn't know if he was cheating - Percy didn't say anything about hiding. 

Time dragged on though Nico had no idea what time it was; he couldn't see the sun through the branches. He must've dozed off because the next thing he knew was that he was jolting awake as a girl noisily dashed into this part of the forest, stopping directly beneath Nico's tree to catch her breath. After getting past his initial panic at being startled Nico identified the Lady as Belinda, known as Billie, the last Lady from Thesmophoros. As far as Nico could remember both of her roommates had been eliminated and now she lived in her dorm alone, much to everyone's jealousy. Her short black hair had streaks of blue in it, something not uncommon in Thesmophoros. 

Nico almost made a noise when Prince Percy came tumbling out of the trees. The boy slapped a hand over his mouth and held his breath, trying to make himself as small as possible on his branch.

"Got you!" the man called to Billie. The girl squeaked and tried to dash away but the Prince caught her by the wrist, "Now I've  _really_ got you."

"Please, your majesty," Billie begged, "I don't want to go home-"

With a sad smile Percy slid her red ribbon from her waist, "I apologise. Do you know how to get back to the palace?"

Billie's shoulders slumped, "Yes. Of course."

Nico watched her trail away and desperately prayed Percy would follow, his heart pounding. The Prince lingered by his tree for a moment, looking around, and then disappeared back the way he came. Nico exhaled loudly, and winced, leaning back against the tree, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest. He couldn't believe how close he had come to getting eliminated. He didn't know when it had become so important to him - after all he now had a safe place to go to. Slowly, he patted the branch he was perched on,

"Thank you."

"Are you talking to the tree?" a voice sounded and Nico flailed in panic, almost toppling over. Thankfully it wasn't Percy - it was Will. Nico glared down at him,

"You scared me," he grumbled, "and no. I wasn't talking to the tree."

"Right," Will rolled his eyes. He was dressed more casually, in a blue cloak that all the guards wore. Nico thought it suited him better than the others but he'd never admit it, "What are you doing up there Bianca?"

"None of your business," Nico crossed his arms over his chest. Will arched an eyebrow. 

"Oh? Should I call Prince Percy back? I'm sure it's  _his_ business."

"You wouldn't dare," Nico's eyes widened. Will grinned cheekily,

"No. I wouldn't. Care to come down?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Fine," Will said and then before Nico could react he started to climb the tree, making quicker work of it than the Serapian. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" Nico spluttered as Will swung himself onto his branch, "You'll break it, moron!"

"I'm not  _that_ heavy," Will pouted, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Nico. The boy tried not to think about how close they were,

"Whatever. Do you know who got eliminated?" he tried to sound casual even though his heart was pounding fast - it was probably doing that because of almost getting caught. 

"That girl from Cypris I think."

Nico sat up straighter, "Silena?!"

"Um...I don't know their names," Will admitted. For some reason Nico felt a warmth in him at the thought that Will knew  _his_ name. Well, not his real name..., "She had black hair and a  _very_ low cut dress." 

"Oh you noticed her low cut dress?" Nico asked, before he could stop himself. He flushed and Will snorted,

"Bianca di Angelo are you jealous?" he teased. 

"I-Idiot," Nico scoffed, looking away, "And that was Drew Tanaka. Not Silena."

Annabeth came out of the trees, "Bianca!" she called, looking worried.

"What?" Nico called back. Annabeth looked up and frowned,

"Why are you up there?" she demanded, "it's noon, get down, we got through."

Nico exhaled, and Will said something weird, "Look at that - one step closer to marrying Percy." He sounded...sad. Nico tried not to pay that any mind as he excitedly climbed down the tree, followed closely by the guard. Annabeth raised an eyebrow at the blonde,

"And who's this?" she asked.

"William Solace," Will bowed, "at your service, Milady."

"Will," Nico rolled his eyes, "This is my cousin Annabeth from Mattei."

"Nice to meet you," Annabeth sounded amused. She offered Nico her arm, "Shall we, cousin?"

The three of them weaved their way back through the forest, to the sunlit gardens where the girls were gathering. Nico was relieved to leave the shadowy forest behind him but was shocked at how few girls remained in the square. They all had bright smiles on their faces though - they had passed.

"Ladies!" Percy called when Annabeth and Nico joined the crowd, Will hanging back. Nico's heart skipped a beat when the Prince smiled  _right_ at him, "It is my deepest regret to inform you that Lady number one, Rachel Elizabeth Dare from Delphi, number six Gwendolyn Centurion from Dias," Annabeth tensed next to Nico but she relaxed when Percy skipped over her number and going straight to Drew's name, "Number ten, Belinda from Thesmophoros," Nico held his breath. Number eleven and twelve were gone, and he was next. His nails dug into his palm, but Percy just put his hands behind his back, "Have been eliminated. The rest of you make it to the next round."

A wild cheer sounded from the girls and Hazel pushed her way through the crowd to throw her arms around Annabeth and Nico, sounding as if they had all already won the Contest. Nico grinned over their heads at Will, but to his dismay the blonde didn't smile back. 

*** 

Another week sluggishly rolled past. It was quieter now in the castle, with just under half the girls left. Everyone of them knew that there was only one more trial awaiting them and then Percy would choose his Queen. Stupidly, at the back of his head Nico still hoped that maybe it'd be him. But his father had made it clear in his letter that he'd have to be eliminated soon. Nico spent a lot of his nights in Hazel's room with Annabeth, since the girl was the only one in her dorm left. Two rooms had been locked shut, a constant reminder of how easy it is to be eliminated. Nico's room was the only one still full, and he decided that if he had to be eliminated then he'd like Thalia or Silena to be his future Queen. 

Will was acting weird. He avoided Nico for the best part of the following week, and during their short sessions in the evenings to and from the bathroom he barely talked. It was unlike him, but whenever Nico asked Will would just brush him off. The Serapian hated how much it affected him. During the long, lazy afternoons he always sought out Will, if only for a quick talk, but now the man seemed to never want to be around Nico. 

Finally one night Nico couldn't stand it anymore. Will was brooding again, trailing behind Nico as he walked to the bathroom.

"You're in a bad mood," Nico noted casually.

"Oh," Will replied. Nico felt his eye twitch in annoyance; he hated when the blonde was so secretive. He whirled around on him and crossed his arms over his chest, dropping his bag to the floor. He stared at Will who looked surprised,

"Spill it," Nico said.

"Spill what?" Will nervously looked away. Nico's eyes narrowed,

"Something's bothering you."

Will tried to step back, "Look, just take your bath-"

Nico stepped forward, backing the taller man into the wall.

"William Solace," he seethed, "tell me what's wrong,  _right now."_ Will looked away again, his eyelashes casting a shadow on his cheeks. He was blushing. Nico's voice softened and he uncrossed his arms, "Will?" he asked tentatively.

"I just...," Will bit his lip, "I thought you were different."

Nico frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I...you...you just seemed...not like the other girls," Will shrugged, "and I thought it'd take more than good looks to woo you."

"Good looks?" Nico was confused, "What are you talking about?"

"The Prince," Will snapped suddenly, making Nico flinch. When their eyes met Will's were more angry than Nico had ever seen them, "every time he's around you forget about everything and everyone and you just  _stare_ at him, like an idiot, like  _everyone else._ When I met you I didn't think you'd be shallow enough to fall for someone because of their appearance-"

"T-That's not true!" Nico spluttered, blushing. 

"You don't even know him," Will yelled. Nico's hands curled into fists, his heart pounding. He knew Will was right; his crush on Percy was baseless. But Nico couldn't help it!

"William Solace," he said, forcing his voice to steady, "Are you  _jealous?"_

Nico didn't expect Will to react the way he did. He grabbed Nico's gloved wrists in his big, rough hands and violently spun them around so Nico's back slammed against the wall, and maybe the boy would've been able to concentrate on the jolt of pain it sent through him if Will wasn't suddenly  _kissing him._ The boy let out a startled, breathy gasp, his eyes widening. Will's kiss was soft and yet desperate at the same time, his eyes shut, hands pressing Nico's wrists against the wall. The boy's heart pounded brutally against his chest, and when one of Will's hands slid down to rest on his waist Nico's knees almost buckled. He didn't know what to do; his eyes fluttered shut on their own accord, he felt stupidly dizzy. His free hand came to press against Will's chest lightly, making sure he wasn't too close, because then he'd feel...

Will pulled back abruptly, eyes as wide as Nico's had been seconds ago. His cheeks were flushed, pupils blown. 

"Oh Gods," he whispered, hands trembling, "I'm s-sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't...I-I'm sorry Bianca."

A wave of nausea hit Nico.  _Bianca, he thinks I'm Bianca._ For the few moments in which Will had been kissing him Nico forgot about where he was for the first time in weeks, and now it all came crashing back down on him. Will hadn't kissed him, he didn't  _mean_ to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Bianca. Nico's vision went watery and he quickly shoved past Will, blindly stumbling to his bedroom. He heard a giggle from Silena on the other side and changed his mind, barrelling right into Hazel's room. Annabeth was there, and both the girls stood up when Nico stumbled in, slamming the door shut and sliding to the floor, hand against his mouth.

"Bianca?" Hazel gasped, "Bianca!" she fell to her knees next to her cousin, "Nico," she whispered urgently. Annabeth was on his other side, gripping his shoulder,

"H-He kissed me," Nico gasped hysterically through his tears, "He kissed me."

"Who?" Annabeth demanded, "Percy?"

Nico shook his head and his vision blurred again, "W-Will-"

" _Fuck,"_ Annabeth swore and slumped against the door next to her cousin. 

"He doesn't want me," Nico sobbed feverishly, "H-He wants B-Bianca, he doesn't w-want me-"

"I thought you liked Percy," Hazel whispered shakily. 

"N-No...not like t-this," Nico was so confused, his heart pounded. He didn't understand how he could've been so blind - he ignored all the signs, his heart skipping a beat, the blushing, the weird feeling in his stomach every time he saw Will, chalking it down to some stupid stuff because he  _thought_ he wanted Percy. He didn't allow himself to think about Will because he was scared of exactly what just happened - that Will would like someone that Nico wasn't. He didn't think it would affect him so much, "M-My heart hurts," Nico whimpered, clutching at his chest. He felt like he was going to pass out, everything was just  _painful._ Hazel wrapped her arms around him and he cried into her shoulder. 

***

The final task came the next afternoon, when Nico dragged himself red-eyed to dinner. The girls only filled out one table now but Nico didn't notice; he was searching the faces of the guards to spot Will, but he wasn't there. Percy announced the task and Nico didn't feel anything when he looked at him, just a void in his stomach. He couldn't eat. 

The task was easy; an hour after dinner the girls would have a one on one with Percy in which he'd get to know them a bit better. That was it; the last task. It seemed childishly easy but all the girls stampeded to their rooms to search for their best dresses and to fix their hair. Nico dragged himself to his bedroom and curled up on the bed, not feeling like participating in the stupid Contest anymore. 

"What do you think of this one?" Silena held up a grey dress. Thalia, who was lounging on the bed made a face,

"Hmm...I liked the yellow one."

Silena hesitated, "Yellow? Are you sure?"

"It looks nice with your dark hair," Thalia shrugged, "I think I'll wear my purple one."

"Oh yes!" Silena squealed, "The purple looks  _gorgeous_ on you," she looked at Nico, "What about you Bianca?"

Nico shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe the blue."

"You already wore the blue," Silena shook her head, "Come on, don't mope around! Let's find you something!" she threw open Nico's luggage and started rummaging through the many dresses that the maids back at Serapis had shoved in there. Thalia came to help her out of curiosity, 

"Are those breeches?" she asked. 

"Wait," Silena interrupted and reached into the mess of colours, "I've never seen this one," she pulled out a white dress. Nico sat up and made a face,

"Isn't it a bit much?" he asked. 

"No!" Silena gushed, shoving the dress into Nico's arms, "It's beautiful! Oh you have to try it on!" Both the girls stared at him expectantly and Nico flushed,

"I-I have crippling anxiety," he stammered, "I'll be right back."

He dashed down the corridor to the bathroom with the dress in his arms and locked the door, leaning against it with a grateful sigh.  _It's almost over,_ Nico knew he'd have to get eliminated in this round. That wouldn't be hard - he had no wish to marry Percy anymore. But leaving meant that he'd never see Will again...maybe that was for the better. The boy took off his wig and stripped off his dress, leaving him in his undergarments and stockings. He looked at himself in the mirror. He could never pass as a girl like that; his flat chest was bare, he had no curves. Biting his lip Nico slipped the dress over his head.

It was off the shoulder and sleeveless, a pretty snowy white against Nico's olive skin. Thankfully the heart shaped neckline didn't go too low, exposing just Nico's sticking out collarbones. It flared out around his waist, the petticoat beneath holding it out. With every of Nico's move it seemed to glimmer with something that the boy couldn't place. Nico's hair was a mess, as it always was when he took off the wig. Hesitantly he pulled it back on. 

He sniffled, staring at himself. He looked pretty. He looked like what Will wanted, but that's not what he was. 

*** 

Number nine Nyssa Barrera came out of the room that she had just been in with Percy. She looked beautiful in her crimson dress but she clearly wasn't happy with the outcome of the talk. Someone asked her how it went but she ignored them, swiping out of the room. Nico bit his lip, his gloved hands clenched in his lap. Prince Percy came out into the little adjacent room where the girls were waiting,

"Number thirteen, Bianca di Angelo, please?" he smiled brightly at Nico, who stood up and followed him into the room without much excitement.

The 'interrogation' room was tiny. It had two armchairs facing each other, a roaring fireplace and a window that let in the last of the day's light. Apart from that there was nothing more in the room,

"Sit, please," Percy gestured to one of the armchairs and he himself settled in the other one. Nervously Nico sat down. He had to be eliminated. 

"It's good to finally properly meet you, Bianca," Percy grinned. Nico mustered up a tiny smile, "So...tell me, how is Serapis?"

Nico shrugged, "Grey."

Percy laughed, "There has to be more!"

"It's all old people and children because everyone else is always on ships, exploring somewhere," Nico said emotionlessly, "It stinks of fish. It's never really quiet because the sea is always roaring in your ears. And not the pretty blue sea of Cypris. This sea is grey too."

Percy looked uncomfortable, "Do you miss it?"

Nico smiled, "More than anything."

Percy relaxed then, "And how are you finding Milos?"

"It's nice. Too fancy for my liking," Nico said. He was happy to finally be able to say some of the truth and couldn't seem to stop, "It gets too quiet sometimes. It is quite beautiful though, especially the cherry trees."

"They're my favourite," Percy's smile widened. Nico thought it was a nice smile, but in his mind all he could see was Will's grin, wild and carefree, not practised like Percy's. His heart clenched. 

"Tell me how you found the challenges," Percy asked. 

"I'm still here aren't I?" 

"Yes," Percy agreed, "You are. So, what do you like best at Milos? Afterall it could be your future home."

Nico looked at his hands, clad in white lace, "I'm afraid you won't like my answer," he admitted quietly. 

"Do tell."

"The thing I like best about Milos is Will," Nico said. Percy frowned,

"The guard?" he asked. Nico nodded, "What...what do you mean?"

Nico smiled to himself and shrugged. Percy looked uncomfortable,

"I get the feeling you don't really want to marry me," he said after a moment.

Nico looked at him, "Would you hate me for it?"

Percy smiled, "Never. Thank you for your honesty, Bianca."

Nico wanted to scream. But he was relieved - he didn't have to be his dead sister anymore, he could finally honour her memory properly. He stood, curtsied to Percy and left the room. 

*** 

Nico was packing his bag in the silence of his dorm. The other girls were out in the gardens, awaiting the verdict, but Nico already knew he was being eliminated. He didn't mind though - he missed Piper, and his father, and hearing the sea again in Cypris would be nice. He was folding all the dresses he was never going to wear again, squeezing them carefully in his bag. His father would be able to announce the death of his daughter properly now. Nico wondered what Will would react like if he found out that Bianca di Angelo was dead. He wondered if the man would cry for him. 

There was some shouting down the corridor, and hurried footsteps thundering down the stairs. Nico frowned. Someone screamed and then a trumpet sounded. Hesitantly Nico went over to the window and with a gasp let the dress he was holding in his arms tumble to the ground. In the darkness of the freshly fallen night a band of men was stealing through the gardens. Nico felt sick - they had finally come for him. Girls were screaming, being horded inside by guards. 

Nico sprinted out into the corridor, heart pounding, and smacked right into a wild looking Will.

"Bianca!" he exhaled with relief when he saw Nico, gripping his arms, "There's rebels in the castle!"

"Yes, I know," Nico said, "What do we do?!" He saw his sister's body in the roses.

"Come on we need to get to the closest emergency hiding spot," Will said and Nico let him pull him down the corridor without protest, their footsteps sounding obnoxiously loud. They descended a flight of stairs and ran down a shadowed corridor. Nico was having trouble breathing. He didn't know what was happening but he could hear shouts from downstairs. The fleeting thought to go and let them kill him came to him; in that way he could protect everyone else. But before he could think about putting that into action Will barrelled into one of the master bedrooms. It was abandoned but he didn't care as he shoved open the heavy looking wardrobe.

"What are you doing?!" Nico demanded, slamming the door shut.

"Emergency procedures; all guards know them," Will explained, moving boxes of shoes to the side, "this is the closest hiding spot."

To Nico's amazement the man pushed open a panel in the floor of the wardrobe and jumped right in. Nico didn't hesitate, following him. Will reached up and slid the panel closed again, drowning the little space in darkness.

"I-I can't see anything," Nico stuttered. Will's hand found his in the dark. The ceiling was just above Nico's head, and he was starting to feel claustrophobic.  

"Go forward," Will instructed calmly, "feel with your foot. There should be another trapdoor in the floor."

Nico did as he was told, still feeling ill. He almost tripped over the door, which had a knob sticking out, "F-Found it."

Will got down on the floor. Nico heard the crinkle of keys and then the man heaved the heavy door open. Both of them clambered down, locking the trapdoor behind them. Nico tried to catch his breath as Will went around the room, lighting candles, he clearly knew what he was doing and in no time the room was filled with a soft glow. It was low, but still high enough for Will to stand up straight. The walls were made of rough stone and Nico could tell that they were in-between floors; there were some barrels and jars of food in one corner and an emergency first aid kit in the other. 

"This is one of the smaller hiding spots so there's no bed," Will explained, sitting down on a bench pressed against one wall. Nico strained but he couldn't hear anything from the outside - they were literally in the dark.

"What now?" he asked. Will shrugged,

"We wait," he said quietly.

"No!" Nico protested, his panic spiking. He turned back to the trapdoor, "I need to find Annabeth! And Hazel! I can't-" he reached up to open it. 

"Don't, Bianca," Will stood up, "You can't do anything! They're probably in hiding as well you can't go out there-"

Nico wasn't listening to him. He wasn't thinking straight; instead of trying to get the keys he stood on his tiptoes and tried to hit the trapdoor, attempting to push it open. Will hauled him away, arms wrapped around his waist,

"Don't be an idiot!" he said as Nico struggled, trying to wiggle free,

"Let me go!" he yelled, tears falling down his face. He didn't know where they came from - he couldn't control the hysteria, his whole body shaking. Among the roses Hazel's and Annabeth's bodies joined Bianca's, "I need to...I n-need to find t-them!" when it became clear that Will wasn't letting go Nico slumped in his arms and continued to cry, "I-It's my fault," he sobbed, "I-It's all my fault."

Will pulled him over to the bench and sat him down, "Bianca what do you mean it's your fault?"

"They're here because of me; the rebels," Nico wiped his eyes on the back of his glove, "They came to Serapis and attacked my castle."

Will's eyes widened, "What?"

"They killed her," Nico whispered, his heart twisting painfully, "They killed my sister."

 "I...I didn't know you had a sister," Will murmured, "I'm sorry," he reached out and touched Nico's hand. He looked like he didn't know what to say, "What...what was her name?"

Nico squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, calming down. He was so exhausted, "Bianca."

Will stared at him, and his gaze went from upset to confused. He opened his mouth but Nico wasn't in the mood for questions. 

"The rebels came four days before the invitation to the Contest," he said hurriedly, staring down at his trembling hands, "Bianca was in the garden and they got to her first. She screamed and alerted everyone in the house; the rebels escaped," he took a shaky breath, "Their intent was to kill the whole family and establish a new monarchy. My father...my father was scared about me and he decided to send me here in Bianca's place for protection. He didn't think that the rebels would find me," Nico smiled bitterly, "I suppose he thought wrong."

"But...but you look about the right age," Will was still baffled, "Surely you'd be invited to participate as well."

Nico sighed, "You still don't understand. Bianca didn't have a sister," he said quietly. He reached underneath the wig and unclipped it from his real hair, letting it fall to the floor. Will stared at him, looking like he was ready to faint, "she has a brother."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Will whispered faintly, "You're...you're a girl."

"Did you not hear a word I just said?" Nico growled, impatient, "I'm not Bianca. Bianca's  _dead._ I'm her brother."

Will angrily grabbed the bodice of Nico's dress and ripped it open, ignoring the boy's protests. He stared in shock at Nico's flat chest and the boy felt mortified. He hugged himself, blushing hard.

"Y-You didn't have to do that!" he stammered. Will just stared at him, opened his mouth then closed it again. He swallowed, then tried again,

"S-So...so what's your real name?"

"Nico," the boy mumbled quietly, looking at the ground, "Nico di Angelo."

Will was as always full of surprises. Instead of expressing his disgust at being deceived he sat in silence for a moment, processing the information. Then slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, he reached out and ruffled Nico's hair. 

"W-What are you doing?" the boy stuttered, eyes wide. Will just shrugged, 

"You made a convincing girl," he admitted, "But looking at you now...," he smiled, "you look better as a boy."

Nico's heart clenched alongside the hands on his dress. Will reached for said hands and gently slid Nico's gloves off. God knows why but Nico let him. Will studied his hands, turning them over in his own ones.

"I didn't mean to lie to you," Nico said, "I had to."

"It's alright, I know, I'm not angry," Will seemed lost in thought, 

Nico tried to hide his blush, "You must be pretty disgusted about kissing me the other night."

"No," Nico's heart jumped in his chest at Will's matter-of-fact response, "Actually I'm still sorry. For not asking your permission, that is."

"Are you serious?" Nico stared at him in wide eyes. Nico wasn't smiling; his eyes were darker than seconds ago. 

"Nico," he said quietly, "Can I kiss you?"

Nico didn't know if he was joking. His head was pounding and he was scared and confused and yet he found himself nodding stupidly. He jolted when Will cupped his jaw gently and shuffled closer. His blue eyes were calm, and warm and he smelled like strawberries and the chocolate chip cookies he was always eating. His lips were slightly chapped when he kissed Nico, but the boy didn't mind. He exhaled slowly to steady his pounding heart. 

Will started to pull away before Nico even got properly into the kiss, and he wasn't having that. He curled his hand into the man's shirt and hauled him back in, crashing their mouths together. Will took the hint and he pulled Nico into his lap, his dress spreading around them. Suddenly the air seemed thick and hot, and everything was clumsy and desperate and messy. Will wrapped his arms around the other boy to keep him close as his tongue delved into the boy's mouth, exploring the wet cavern. Nico's head was hazy as he wrapped his arms around Will's neck, biting lightly on his bottom lip. 

The blonde pulled away from the kiss, "You know I'm still not completely convinced you're not a girl," he said quietly, his eyes dark. His hand snaked underneath Nico's dress and pressed against his clothed cock. Nico didn't even remember getting hard and sucked in a startled breath. 

"W-Will n-no not now-" he started but the man started stroking him through his undergarments and Nico chocked on a breath, hands clenching into fists on Will's shoulders. The blonde smiled and kissed Nico's temple, pulling him close as his hand continued to move. Nico was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on solid thoughts. He had never been touched like that by a girl let alone a man, and Will _definitely_ knew what he was doing. By the time he slid off Nico's dress and underwear and  _properly_ touched him the boy was already leaking precum everywhere, panting as if he had just participated in a race. 

The little, soft, almost shy kisses that Will pressed into Nico's neck contrasted his strong, sure hand almost perfectly, leaving Nico shaking like a leaf on the wind, arms hooked around Will's neck so he could hold onto something. It felt idiotically good but Nico was still aware of the whimpers that he was letting out, the ones he couldn't seem to be able to stop.

"I'm sorry," Will murmured, biting delicately at Nico's earlobe, "I should've asked for permission to touch you."

"S-Shut up," Nico drew him in for a kiss. Something about the fact that Will was fully clothed and completely in control while Nico was naked and trembling and desperate in his lap was arousing. He panted against the blonde's mouth and let out a tiny moan when the guard's thumb brushed against the head of his leaking cock. Will's hand sped up suddenly and Nico leaned into him, gasping and letting out a whine, clinging onto Will and trying to control himself. His body was tense, his stomach clenched. Will was watching him intensely, 

"S-Stop staring at me," Nico gritted out from behind clenched teeth. Will playfully nudged his nose against Nico's and smiled,

"I honestly didn't think you could get any more beautiful."

"F-Fuck you," Nico gasped, toes curling, "thought y-you liked m-me better in a dress."

Will kissed him deeply, letting go of his cock, "I like you best like this."

"Why did you stop?" Nico asked, catching his breath. Will slid off the bench, laying down Nico's ruined dress on the floor. 

"We're going to be here a long time," he said. Nico rolled his eyes,

"You're so charming, William."

"I know," Will beamed, pulling Nico down and pushing him back so he was laying on the dress. Will's smile softened as he tucked Nico's hair behind his ear. Nico leaned into his touch. He liked being close to Will, and touching him...it was intoxicating. Will leaned down and kissed the corner of Nico's mouth, his hand trailing down Nico's thigh hesitantly, "Can I...," he asked breathlessly. Nico pulled him close and nodded, not trusting his voice. Will carefully hiked the younger boy's legs over his shoulders and Nico stared at him as he kissed the inside of his thigh, his hand wandering down to his backside. Nico gasped when Will suddenly squeezed roughly. 

"Don't we need something to...you know," Nico said awkwardly.

"Thinking ahead, I like that," Will smiled. Nico flushed,

"I don't have any...oil." 

Will shrugged, "We'll just have to improvise then, won't we?" 

Before Nico's muddled brain could catch up with the blonde, Will slid down and licked a stripe across his hole. Nico gasped shakily, eyes flying wide open and hands curling into the dress beneath him for some leverage.

"Will no-," he started but then the man started to lick  _inside_ him and Nico's head fell back as he cried out. Will's tongue was hot and wet and turned Nico's insides to mush. The boy panted, unable to breathe properly, eyes squeezing shut. There was a thin layer of sweat over his body and his toes curled. His stocking clad legs were still thrown carelessly over Will's shoulders and the blonde seemed oblivious to anything other than Nico's hole, which he was eating hungrily. The dark haired boy was blissed out, melted against the ground, and then the blonde started to fuck him with his tongue. 

A sob spilled from Nico's mouth, his vision blurring with tears of pleasure. His hands were suddenly gripping the man's hair, trying to desperately pushing him deeper. Will seemed to get the hint because suddenly there was a finger being inserted into Nico. The boy whined at the slight burning sensation, but the tongue alongside it made it slide in easily. Will started to slowly slide his finger in and out of Nico, and the boy couldn't help but push back. 

"Fuck...," he gasped, "O-Oh  _fuck."_

"Watch your mouth, Nico," Will surged up to kiss the boy. Nico cross his ankles behind Will's head, pulling him closer as the man shoved another finger in him roughly. Nico gripped his hair making sure he stayed close, gasping against his lips. Will curled his fingers inside Nico and fresh tears sprung to the boy's eyes. His head was swimming and he felt like he was going to pass out by the time Will pushed a third finger inside him. The burn was the only thing that seemed to be stopping him from drifting away. 

"Is it okay?" Will asked worriedly, "I've never done this before."

"L-Liar," Nico moaned breathlessly. 

"I'm serious," Will cupped Nico's face in his free hand and stilled his fingers, "Are you alright?"

"N-No...," Nico whimpered, "I want y-you."

"I'm here," Will kissed the tip of his nose.

"Inside me," Nico added impatiently. He saw the emotion in Will's eyes shift; his pupils grew so big that there was only a sliver of blue around them. Without a word Will pulled his fingers out. He spat in his palm and slicked up his own cock. Nico had no idea when he had gotten it out, but he couldn't stop staring at it. Well, he couldn't stop staring at it until Will started to push it inside him. Nico's head fell back, eyes falling shut. He heard Will's breathing speed up above him and the man let out a low, hoarse moan that went straight to Nico's own cock. It hurt, but Nico was already so dazed from all the foreplay that he enjoyed it. He was all wet from Will's mouth earlier and his entrance made a squelching sound as Will bottomed out. 

"Gods," the blonde moaned, eyes falling shut, "fuck."

"W-Watch you mouth," Nico grinned but the smile fell right off his face when Will pulled back and swiftly pushed back in, " _O-Oh."_

Now it was Will's turn to grin, "Good?"

Nico answered with a low whine. Will started to move ever so slowly, thrusting in gently as to not hurt Nico. He opened his eyes and just stared at the boy, as if afraid to take his eyes off of him. Nico couldn't seem to keep quiet, all sorts of whimpers and moans spilling from his mouth every time Will re-entered him. 

"Will," Nico growled impatiently, "I'm not going to break."

To his disappointment Will stopped moving all together, his expression serious, "I probably should've asked this earlier but I'm going to do it now; are you planning on winning the Contest?"

Nico reached for the blonde's hand and pressed it against his hard cock, "T-This," he said breathlessly, gasping, "Means I can't be a queen," he whimpered and made Will's hand stroke his cock, "F-Fuck,  _nghhh..._ Will move, p-please, I-I need you to m-move..."

"And I need you to tell me you don't want him," Will looked torn, like he wanted to move but something was stopping him, "Nico just tell me you don't want him."

Nico looked at him helplessly, "I don't want him. I want you."

Will slammed back inside him roughly and Nico's breath hitched. The heat was back inside him, igniting his body so he couldn't control himself. Will set up a brutal pace, pounding into Nico like he wanted to break him. Nico was clenching around his thick cock, back arching to try and get Will deeper inside him. His world went in and out of focus, his skin prickling. 

Will's hand wrapped around his cock and Nico cried out, feeling his orgasm approaching fast. He'd done it to himself sometimes, in the dark, embarrassed, biting a pillow to keep quiet, but this was so much better. The combined feeling of Will inside him and his hand pumping him fast was making it impossible for Nico to stave off his orgasm, his hips buckling wildly. 

"Will, W-Will, Oh Gods,  _Will,"_ he babbled, pulling Will in for a wet, sloppy kiss, tongues tangling together, "I'm going to... _ah!_ Will, I-I can't h-hold back-"

Impossibly, the man's thrusts sped up, hitting something inside Nico that made his eyes roll into the back of his head. The pleasure was too much, Nico was needily holding onto Will. He clenched around the man and then without warning he exploded all over both of them, head falling back. 

 *** 

Hours later Nico and Will re-emerged from their hiding spot into the sunlit bedroom. Everything was untouched and the boys slipped into the corridor. Nico was wearing his ruined dress (Thank God it was white) and Will's shirt over top, his wig back in place. The corridors were empty and quiet, Nico's body ached but in a good way. 

"I can't see anyone," Will's hand was on the hilt of his sword as they walked up the stairs. There was no awkwardness between them; after they both climaxed they laid in each other's arms for ages, drifting in and out of sleep. Then they fucked again. Nico's stomach twisted when they reached the third floor and he saw that all the dorm doors were closed. There were no voices, no sounds at all. Nico swallowed and knocked onto his bedroom door. Silence. He gently pushed it open. 

All three beds had been stripped down, and the room was empty of all personal belongings except Nico's, which were packed and neatly stacked in the corner. The boy blinked,

"I don't understand...," he said as Will walked further in to inspect.

"NICO!" a screech sounded and then someone shoved right into Nico, almost sending him sprawling.

"A-Annabeth?!" the boy stuttered as the girl hugged him fiercely.

"You absolute idiot!" the girl sounded hysterical, "We were all so worried-," only now she noticed Will in the room. With wide eyes she pulled away, "I...Nico is a nickname...for her."

Nico's mouth twitched into a smile, "It's alright," he said, "He knows," Nico frowned, "Annabeth what happened? Where's Hazel? Is she safe."

Annabeth looked between Nico and Will and realisation dawned on her, "You don't know," she said softly, and cleared her throat, "The rebels didn't even make it past the main door. There were some sell-swords on standby and they ended the crisis quickly. In the confusion some girls went into hiding and it took us half the night to find them; but you were missing, and so was William," she sighed, "it was a mess."

"We were...um...hiding too," Nico said.

"I don't wanna know," Annabeth pulled a face, "But Nico...," she bit her lip, "Everyone went home, they were eliminated. Percy chose his Queen."

"Really?" Nico didn't feel anything at the news, and he could feel Will watching him for any signs of jealousy. But there were none, "Please tell me it wasn't Kelli."

Annabeth took a deep breath and showed Nico her head. On her finger shone a pretty, diamond ring. He gaped at her,

"No way," he whispered. She grinned and Nico bowed hurriedly, "Well then, your majesty."

"Oh stop that," Annabeth smacked him upside the head but she was still smiling, "Most importantly Serapis is safe again, though your Father still wants you to go to Cypris first. Hazel is headed there now and as soon as me and Percy pack...well, we'll be on our way there too."

Nico bit his lip and glanced at Will. The man was staring at the ground. Annabeth glanced between them. 

"I'll give you two a moment," she said quietly and then slipped out. Nico cleared his throat,

"I'm...gonna change if that's alright," he said, and without waiting for a reply he went to his luggage and dug to the bottom of his bag. There he had a shirt, a cloak, a pair of breeches and some boots. It was a relief to be out of the stained dress and back in his actual clothes. Nico had almost forgot what pants feel like. When he finished dressing he looked up to see Will staring at him.

"You look so...different," the blonde said quietly. Nico hugged himself self-consciously,

"Good different or...," he trailed off. Will smiled softly and walked over to Nico. He cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead gently. 

"Definitely good," he murmured, tucking Nico's hair behind his ear. He seemed to like doing that. 

"Come with me," Nico said, gripped by sudden desperation, hands shooting out to grip Will's crumpled shirt. The blonde opened his mouth and Nico pulled him in for a quick kiss to prevent him from speaking, "Just say yes. We'll figure everything out later, I'll talk to Percy to transfer you, o-or something just-"

Will smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek, "Yes."


End file.
